


An assortment of articles that articulate attraction

by heatgeneratingtechniques



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Buddy System, Buddy System Season 2, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, M/M, Randomness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatgeneratingtechniques/pseuds/heatgeneratingtechniques
Summary: Link just wants to do something with his mustache hair. Rhett just wants his feelings to go away.





	1. Hairs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a random little thing I've had rattling around in my head for a few weeks. It may get more explicit later. In this version of Buddy System, they stayed in their normal bodies, Ignatius is cool with them being roommates, and Glenn doesn't exist because clowns. :)

    For the second time in ten minutes, Link switched on the hair clippers. The buzzing sound stirred anxiety in his chest, and he quickly turned them off again.

    “I can’t do it, man.”

    “Yes, you can,” Rhett said firmly. He stood in the bathroom doorway, his arms crossed. The floral pattern of his silk shirt was dizzying to look at for too long.

    Link looked at himself in the large mirror above the sink, started the buzzing clippers again. He’d had the mustache for so long that he couldn’t imagine how he’d look without it. But Rhett had encouraged him to try something new.

    “It’s just hair, right?” Rhett had said. “If you don’t like how it looks, you can grow it back.”

    Link had been excited for the change at first. But now, as he stared at himself in the mirror, he was regretting his decision. He looked back at Rhett.

    “What if I grow a beard? Like you? My hair grows real fast.”

    “We can’t both have beards,” Rhett insisted. “You gotta look different if we’re going to stay best friends.”

    “We’re best friends?” There was a part of him that was always pleasantly surprised when Rhett said those words out loud, as if he hardly dared believe they were true.

    “Of course we are!” Rhett gestured at the clippers, his face wrinkled in annoyance. “That’s why we can’t look the same. It’s science. Now shave.”

    Link edged the clippers closer to his face. He squeezed his eyes almost completely shut. His hand wavered.

    Sudden warmth behind him coalesced into a pair gentle hands on his shoulders.

    “Take a deep breath,” Rhett suggested, his fingers gently working a pattern into Link’s clavicles. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

    Link obeyed, his eyes still closed. As he exhaled, he felt his shoulders relax. He wanted to melt into the chest of his roommate standing behind him.

    “Keep breathing,” Rhett said when he went still.

    Link opened his eyes.

    He liked the look of them standing together. Rhett’s brightly colored shirt contrasted sharply with Link’s dark blue polo, but somehow they still matched. Rhett was staring at him in the mirror, hands still working magic on his shoulders. He always looked at Link as if he was trying to pierce _through_ him. No, not _through,_ but _into_ , as if he didn’t want to miss a single quirk of his roommate’s face. As if he wanted to find a way to dive into Link’s mind through his eyes. Was that how best friends always looked at each other? Link’s cheeks reddened at the thought.

    “Okay.” Rhett’s voice was as soft as the motions of his hands. “Now shave.”

    Link grit his teeth. A high-pitched sound emanated from his mouth as he attacked the mustache that he’d kept since puberty. It tickled his lip as it fell.

    The process was over more quickly than he expected. He stared at the strangely bare-faced man in the mirror.

    “I look like I don’t have a top lip,” he murmured.

    “You look different from me, and that’s what’s most important.” Rhett sounded pleased. He bent to sweep the hairs scattered over the sink into the trash can.

    “No, no, wait!” Link shot out a hand. “I wanna save those!”

    Rhett looked from him to the clippings in his hand. “Your mustache hairs?”

    “Yeah! Got an envelope or something?”

* * *

     Twenty minutes later, they were at the dining room table, sharing a pizza for dinner. Rhett’s half was spicy sausage, olives, banana peppers, and mushrooms. Link’s half was plain cheese, light on the tomato sauce.

    The mustache hair envelope lay on the table by Link’s plate. Rhett glared at it several times.

    Finally, after folding a pizza slice in half and downing it in two bites, he said, “I wish you’d throw that thing away. Saving bits of hair is something only creepy people do.”

    “I’m gonna do something with it,” Link said. “With my mustachenvelope. You’ll see.”

    “Your _mustachenvelope_.” Rhett fixed him with a raised eyebrow. “What do you want to do with it?”

    “Something big.”

    Rhett’s expression remained skeptical.

    “I...” Link’s gaze darted around the room, seeking an answer. He came to rest upon a vase sitting on a table in the corner. It vaguely reminded him of the burial urn that his mother had kept on her mantlepiece for years. “I’m gonna scatter my hair! Like ashes.”

    “What?”

    “My mom did it for my great aunt's uncle. He said he wanted to be scattered all over creation.”

    “Did she do it?”

    “She scattered him in the backyard.”

    “Oh.” Rhett sat back, scratching his chin as he considered this. “Where do you want to scatter the hair?”

    Another tough question. Link frowned, his mind flitting through the possibilities. “I-I want to scatter it in important places. Like...” He thought for a moment, his brow furrowing. Thinking about his great aunt’s uncle’s ashes made him think about a grave he hadn’t visited in a long time. “My grandparents’ grave.”

    “That seems kinda morbid.” Rhett shrugged. “I like it.” He took another pizza slice and shoved half of it in his mouth.

    A phone in the kitchen rang.

    “We have a landline?” Link glanced from the kitchen to Rhett.

    “It’s for emergencies,” Rhett explained with his mouth full. “Could you...”

    “Oh.” Link sprang up. “I’ll get it.”

    He scrambled into the kitchen, spotting the phone in its cradle by the fridge.

    “Hello?”

    “Yo.” A gruff, male voice. “Is this Mugs?”

    Link frowned. “What?”

    “Is this Mugs?”

    “Um no, this is Link.”

    “Link. Okay, _Link_. Tell Mugs that I’m comin’ over there to punch him in the face.”

    “U-um...” Link glanced around in a panic, but Rhett was still in the dining room. “There’s nobody here by that name.”

    “Oh.” The caller paused. “Then I’m comin’ over there to punch _you_ in the face!”

    “What!” Link froze. He stared at the phone in disbelief before putting it to his ear again“Why? What did I do to you?”

    The caller spoke again, but at the same time that Rhett sauntered into the kitchen with their dirty plates and said, “Who’s that?”

    Link frowned. “Some guy on the phone said he’s gonna punch me in the face.”

    With extraordinary care, Rhett placed the plates in the sink. Then he whirled around, snatching the phone from Link.

    “Who is this?” he bellowed into it.

    Link took a few steps back until he hit the door handle of the fridge. Rhett’s face had gone crimson with rage.

    “You’re the punk who wants to punch my roommate in the face?” Rhett’s voice grew louder, as he wildly gesticulated with each word. “Well, listen here, _buddy._ You wanna punch him? Your fist is gonna have to get through _me_ first. You got that? And I ain’t a small man!”

    “I’m not small—”

    Rhett waved Link silent. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded. He listened for a moment, his hand slowly falling to his side. “What?” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

    “What’s wrong?” No response. Link sprang forward and wrested the phone from Rhett’s grip. “What happened?” he asked the person on the other line.

    The voice in the phone was now upbeat and pleasant. Celebratory pop music played in the background.

    “That’s right, sir! You’ve just been prank-called by ‘I can’t believe it’s not country’ 103.5. And as a reward for offering the most entertaining prank call response, you and your roommate have won a year’s worth of free coffee and two tickets to the Daisy Theater’s summer production of _The Nutcracker_!”

    “What?” Link shook his head. “But I-I don’t want my nuts cracked!”

    Rhett snatched the phone back. He spoke to the man on the other end for a few more minutes before finally hanging up.

    “I won,” he murmured, his face full of wonder.

    “ _We_ won,” Link corrected him. “But what’s so good about us winning the chance to have our nuts cracked?”

    Rhett shook his head. “The Nutcracker is a ballet scored by Peter Tchaikovsky. Usually performed around Christmas, except at the Daisy Theater, where they perform it every summer.”

    “Are we going?”

    “Of course.”

    Link snapped his fingers. “More importantly, are you gonna punch anybody?”

    Rhett grinned. “Nah.”

* * *

     The graveyard was as pleasant as a sunlit park. Trees nodded in the gentle, late spring breeze. Link led Rhett through orderly rows, stopping before a rectangular gravestone. He clutched the mustachenvelope to his chest so tightly that he could feel his heart pounding beneath his hand.

    “I meant to visit them more often,” he said ruefully. “When I was growing up, they did so much for me. But I got so wrapped up in working overtime that I guess it slipped my mind.” He blinked back a few tears. “I, um, I feel like I should say something.”

    Rhet nodded. “Go for it.” He was dressed in black skinny jeans, a grey henley, and a black ascot tie speckled with white. Perfectly somber for the occasion. He folded his hands before him and bowed his head.

    Link cleared his throat. “Hey, Gram and Grandpa. It’s me. Linkypoo.” He felt Rhett’s incredulous double-take, but pressed on. “Last time you saw me, I was working at the packing peanut factory. Ten years ago, remember that? Well, they let me go. I did make a friend, though! Rhett.” He glanced at his roommate, unable to hide the beginnings of a grin on his face. “He said we’re best friends. Isn’t that cool?”

    Rhett made a gruff noise but said nothing.

    Link took a pinch of hair from the envelope. “This is for you, Gram and Grandpa. Thank you for making fried chicken and calming me down when I didn’t want Mom to clip my toenails. Thank you for teaching me how to swing myself on the swings when none of the other kids wanted to push me.” He sniffed, his eyes stinging at the memories. “Thank you for everything.”

    He scattered the hair over the grass.

    Silence. Link couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed. He’d expected _something_ to happen, like an earthquake or lightning from the sky to mark this important moment of a clump of hair leaving the mustachenvelope. But the day remained as quiet and cheery as ever. He glanced at Rhett, whose attention was fixed on the headstone.

    “What were your grandparents like, Rhett?”

    “Not sure. After my dad left with Nutmeg, my mom moved us both out here to California. We went back to North Carolina for holidays, but...” Rhett sighed. “Never got to know them well.”

    “What?” Link looked up at him, frowning. “But who made you mac and cheese after school? Who taught you how to blow bubbles?”

    Rhett hunched his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Taught myself, I guess,” he said gruffly.

    “Oh.”

    Rhett looked out across the headstones. His eyes were distant. “There was a lot I had to teach myself.”

    Link heard the sadness in his voice. Sadness, regret, and — was that anger in the set of his jaw? He sidled closer to his roommate. “Do you want a hug?”

    “Please don’t.” Rhett quickly stepped aside, one hand raised.

    With a sigh, Link dropped his arms. Rhett got into moods like this sometimes, where he didn’t want to talk or be touched. It frustrated Link. One moment, Rhett seemed to smother him with attention. The next, he closed himself off and wouldn’t come out for anyone’s sake. Link wished he could figure out how to break through to him, but so far, it had been impossible.

    As they picked their way back through the gravestones to where Rhett had parked his motorcycle, Link muttered, “You could have just said, ‘No thanks’ like a normal human being.”

* * *

     That night was warm enough to warrant turning on the fan. Link lay spread eagle on his bunk just beneath it, letting the cool air wash over him. His night chocolate was melting on his tongue, spreading warmth through his body. It truly was an exquisite taste.

     But despite this comfort, his thoughts were still on the graveyard.

    “Hey, Rhett? You ever think about dying?”

    “All the time.” Something about Rhett’s easy answer made Link roll his eyes. Of _course_ he’d thought about it. “I planned my funeral already, actually. I would like Lionel Ritchie to appear and perform a series of his greatest hits.”

    “At a funeral?” Link asked. He watched the fan spin above him, the blades a soft blur.

    “People will be sad, so some good ol’ Lionel will cheer them up,” Rhett explained. He sounded excited, a sharp contrast to his somber demeanor earlier that day. “I would like the service to take place outdoors so people can throw black rose petals to signify their sadness without having to worry about anyone cleaning them up. I want to be buried in my green-and-white striped seersucker suit. And my casket is going to be lined with baby blue silk pillows stuffed with woven baby llama fur for optimum comfort.”

    “Optimum comfort?” Link repeated slowly. His eyelids were growing heavy at the drone of Rhett’s voice. “But you’re going to be _dead._ ”

    “Being dead is no excuse for being uncomfortable.” Rhett yawned. “Do you want your body to rot in a cheap box or a soft cloud of llamas?”

    “Well.” Link rolled over onto his side, his knees curled up to his chest. “A regular coffin’s cheaper.”

    Rhett scoffed. “One of these days, Link, you’ll realize that true comfort is worth the cost.”

    Link meant to say something else, but the next thing he remembered was opening his eyes the next morning to find his roommate’s face inches from his. He flinched.

    “What the heck, man!”

    Rhett was standing by the top bunk, watching him with that same piercing look. When he saw that Link was awake, he only nodded and turned away.

    “Just wanted to check.”

    “Check _what_?” Link demanded. He tried to sit up, hit his head on the now-still fan, and lay back again.

    Rhett paused in the doorway. He hadn’t dressed yet; he still wore his silk pajamas and his hair was messy from sleep. But there was an approving look on his face as he met Link’s eyes.

    “You were sleeping the right way this time.”


	2. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly done when I posted the first one, so here it is. Rating has been updated to Mature. Glad you guys are enjoying this weird OOC story so far. :)

    City Grounds was a cozy little coffee shop downtown, tucked between an office building and a boutique that, according to Rhett, sold beautifully tailored suits. It was warmly lit by low-hanging bulbs, with dark wood paneling on the walls and soft jazz music playing in the background. People were gathered in small groups around tables and booths, coffee cups and pastries between them. The walls were decorated with a variety of abstract art pieces.

    Link trailed behind Rhett on their way to the register, craning his neck as he tried to absorb everything about this new place. His mustache was growing back already, and despite Rhett’s objections, he’d decided to keep it. He had passed this coffee shop many times, but had never thought to go inside. He squinted at the art displayed on the walls: great swaths of neon colors on white canvases, wire sculptures of animals, and what looked like a macaroni sculpture of Abraham Lincoln. At the far end of the shop was a stage and a lone microphone. A sign beside it read “ _OPEN MIC POETRY NIGHT”_ in bold letters.

    Link caught up to Rhett in time to hear him order his drink.

    “Half-caf soy milk latte with a double shot of espresso, extra cream and chocolate on the side.”

    The sleepy-looking barista shifted her gaze to Link.

    “Uh, I’ll have a regular coffee. With cream and sugar.”

    Rhett turned on him, eyes bulging. “We get free coffee for a year and _that’s_ what you order?” He shook his head. “This is like you ordering white from the ice cream truck all over again.”

    Link bristled. “What, is this shop gonna pack up and leave, too?”

    “It’s okay,” the barista said with a tired hand wave. “I don’t mind.” She shuffled away from the register to make their drinks.

    “But it’s the _principle_ of the thing,” Rhett muttered as they waited. “I come here all the time and I’ve never ordered the same drink twice. You need to try something new, man.”

    “Coming in here was a new thing. Does that count?” Link grinned hopefully. His heart sank a little when Rhett only rolled his eyes.

    By the time they got their drinks and snagged an empty table near the stage, open mic night was well underway.

    A tall woman wearing what looked like black bed sheets glided up to the microphone.

    “Life,” she intoned. “Death. Opposites. Red. Blue. Contrast.”

    From one of the couches by the stage, a girl yelled, “Red and blue aren’t opposites.”

    The woman glared at the girl but continued. “Soft. Hard. Wall. Floor.”

    “Those aren’t opposites either!” a man protested from a table by the window. “Get off the stage and let someone read actual poetry, woman.”

    “Shut up!” the woman roared, stamping her foot on the stage. Link jumped, almost choking on his coffee. Rhett only chuckled.

    “I always love when Beatrice loses her temper,” he whispered to Link as the woman strode angrily off the stage.

    “She does this often?” Link asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

    Rhett nodded. “All the time! She even threw the microphone at a guy one time. It was great.”

    Link chuckled nervously. “That’s not the word I would use.”

    A young man wearing a black beanie bounded up to the mic, a paper in hand. He seemed to radiate a fierce energy from his bright eyes. He cleared his throat and began reading.

_He laughs, he cries_

_The spark, it dies_

_But life provides_

_A reason to live_

_A new spark_

    He paused, looking out over the crowd. “What is your spark?” he asked. “What provides your reason for living?”

    For a moment, there was silence. Rhett and Link shared confused glances.

    Then in a monotone voice, the young man said, “Better find it.”

    “Oh come on, that didn’t even rhyme properly!” This time it was the barista who yelled. She tossed her hands up in frustration and turned away from the stage, muttering something about people being unable to tell a good poem if it slapped them in the face.

    “Poems don’t have to rhyme, Audrey,” the young man shot back. “Some of the greatest works ever written have been arrhythmic and full of delightful imagery and-”

    “Okay, _Scott,_ ” the barista called mockingly. “You just give me a call when you write the next ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’”

    The young man stalked off the stage, red-faced with anger. Rhett chuckled. He was in a good mood. He’d taste-tested a meal of bacon and beans that morning, two people had already yelled at the audience during open mic night, and he’d successfully convinced his roommate to try something new. The day couldn’t get any better.

    “Where do you get your spark from, Link?” he asked.

    Scott and Audrey were arguing at the register now, but nobody paid them any attention. A trio of people scampered up to the stage with djembes and stools in tow.

    “My spark?” Link glanced around the shop. “I don’t know.”

    Rhett took a long sip of his coffee. “Cracker sandwiches, maybe?” He lowered his voice. “Robots?”

    The djembe trio took turns whispering words into the mic to the thumping accompaniment of their drums. Someone complained loudly that she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they ignored her.

    “None of those things.” Link shook his head. A curl of his hair came loose over his forehead as he smiled sheepishly. “I dunno, I guess I get it when I’m with you?”

    Rhett could have sworn he heard the world grind to a stop around them. He certainly stopped breathing for several seconds. Link, however, adjusted his glasses and went on peacefully sipping his coffee.

    “What about you? Where do you get that spark from, Rhett?”

    “Well, I...” Rhett trailed off. He had no idea. He’d spent so long chasing pleasure and wishing he had someone to share his experiences that any thoughts of a _spark_ had been lost a long time ago.

    His eyes fell on Scott and Audrey across the room. The two of them were now violently making out on the counter, knocking bags of coffee grounds onto the floor. Link followed his gaze.

    “ _They_ seem to have found a spark,” he said.

    Rhett cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get a room!” he yelled, but they continued kissing as if they hadn’t heard.

    “You didn’t answer my question, Rhett.”

    The djembe trio left the stage to be replaced by a man whose poetry seemed to be thinly veiled insults directed at his audience. Rhett took a long sip of coffee before answering.

    “I get that spark when I am in the midst of optimum comfort,” he said stiffly.

    Link rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

* * *

 

    They stopped outside a perfectly square and windowless building. Occasionally, a truck drove up, was loaded with boxes full of flattened boxes, and drove away.

    “What place is this?” Rhett asked as they got off his motorcycle.

    “First job. Making boxes.”

    “Weren’t you working at a place that filled boxes with packing peanuts before you got laid off?”

    “Yep.” Link sounded proud. “I was moving up in the world.”

    “That explains so much.” Rhett shook his head. “Got your mustachenvelope?”

    Link produced the envelope from his pocket and took a large pinch of hair from it. He cleared his throat.

    “To the memory of my first job,” he said. “You got me started on a long, mundane path and I was very happy about it.”

    He scattered the hair on the wind. They watched it drift into the grass before them. Link thought about the double shifts he’d regularly worked here, grueling only in retrospect. He would have been content to work himself into oblivion if it hadn’t been for Rhett.

    He looked over at his roommate. Something about Rhett’s profile, the sharp lines blending with the softness of his beard and hair, made his chest feel strangely tight. He owed Rhett more than he could ever begin to communicate. How could he begin to repay his roommate’s kindness?

    Even though he had a tidy little nest egg saved to pay for his room and board for a few more months, he was still worried about becoming a burden. He wondered if it was time to find a new job.

    “Was this job really that meaningful?” Rhett asked, scuffing one foot in the grass. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I wish I could forget my first job.”

    “What was it?”

    “Paper boy.” Rhett stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Was not a good time.”

    “Why, because you had to get up early and ride your bike all over the neighborhood in the rain?”

    “No. Someone living a few blocks over from me had a dog named Cerberus. It was never on a leash. And it liked to chase me.” Rhett shivered.

    “You were on a bike, right? Probably wasn’t that bad.”

    “Did you hear what I said? The dog’s name was _Cerberus._ It had three freaking heads! I don’t know how animal control never took that monster away. I had to start delivering papers on that street after school when people were around instead of at the crack of dawn. Thanks to that, everyone living on that street was always behind on the news. One time, Mrs. Anderson tried to sue me for withholding information from her. She had tried calling Mr. Carter several times and didn’t know he was dead since she hadn’t read his obituary in the paper!”

    Link winced. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

    Rhett shook his head. “It’s okay. It was a dumb job, anyway.”

    They stood there for a while longer, Rhett adjusting the straps of his bike helmet.

    Once again, Link felt that sense of something needing to happen. But nothing did.

* * *

 

    That night, Rhett saw Cerberus in his dreams. He was delivering papers on his bike as an adult now, naked except for a very poofy skirt that tangled around his legs as he pedaled. This time, Cerberus had four heads. It was also the size of a horse. The beast galloping down the street after him, its barks shaking the ground beneath his feet. Rhett tried to pedal faster, but the road beneath him was suddenly quicksand. He sank more quickly than he moved forward, screaming for Cerberus to stay away from him.

    Then he was awake, sitting bolt upright, gasping for breath as he clutched the bedsheets in both hands as if they were handlebars. The knowledge that he was safely in bed did nothing to slow his heart rate. He sank back onto the pillow.

    Above him, Link stirred. A sleepy voice murmured, “You okay, man?”

    Rhett froze. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you up.”

    “You need company?”

    “What?”

    “When I have nightmares, sometimes it helps to get a hug.”

    Rhett didn’t know what to say. His mind was still fluttering about fearfully from his dream. Images of bared teeth and growls made him shiver.

    Link was still talking. “I mean, I know you don’t like being touched, but maybe—”

    “Yes.” It came out like a sob.

    “Huh?”

    “Yes. I want...” The words caught in his throat. “Just get down here.”

    He kept his face to the wall as Link scrambled down from the top bunk. He hadn’t shared a bed with another person in such a long time. Link pressed up against him. His hands were all that separated the two of them.

    Rhett didn’t dare turn around. The idea of rolling over and coming face-to-face with his roommate made his palms sweat.

    “You can hug me,” he whispered, sensing Link’s hesitation.

    Link draped an arm over Rhett’s torso. Rhett could feel his roommate’s feather-light breath on the back of his neck. He felt something else, too, his skin heating as something stirred below and _oh gosh,_ he thanked his lucky stars that his back was to Link.

    Might as well push his luck.

    “Can you rub my chest.” A mumbled request, almost lost in the pillow.

    “Say again?” Warm breath on his neck made his arms break out in goosebumps.

    “My chest. Can you rub it. I’m still tight and stressed. If you rub my chest... sometimes that helps me sleep.”

    Link began working his fingers over Rhett’s soft pajamas. His touch was almost too light.

    “Wait.” Rhett’s fingers fumbled with the buttons. He thrust Link’s hands beneath his shirt, flat against his chest. “Yeah. That’s the spot.”

    It helped. The tension in his throat eased as the memory of the nightmare faded. The desire stirring in his gut, however, refused to dissipate.

    Rhett bit his lip. He refused to push the situation further, despite the myriad of voices in his head telling him to go for it. Link was his roommate. A loyal and optimistic, if somewhat stubborn and naive, friend. By his own admission, he’d never kissed anyone outside his family. How would he react if Rhett rolled over and kissed him now?

    No, he couldn’t do it. He refused to risk scaring Link away. Rhett held still, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall until Link’s hand went limp and he began snoring. Then, he carefully disentangled himself from Link and escaped to the bathroom.

    He looked like a wreck. His hair was a tangled mess, and his eyes were dark and hungry. Splashing water on his face did nothing to calm himself down. He thought about taking a cold shower to calm himself down, but there was a much easier solution.

    That’s how he ended up furiously rubbing one out over the toilet, one hand pressed flat against the wall above it. The entire time, his face burned with shame. When he came, there was a split second in the midst of the heat and gasping for breath in which he hated himself.

    He washed his hands three times afterwards, but he still felt filthy.

    When he returned to bed, Link was sprawled across it, fast asleep. His mouth hung open, occasionally emanating soft snores. Rhett briefly considered climbing into the top bunk but quickly changed his mind. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep so close to the fan. He crawled in beside Link, allowing himself the luxury of examining his roommate’s face in the night light (they’d both agreed that they were not afraid of the dark, just what was _in_ the dark). He was peaceful in sleep, the lines of worry and confusion now smoothed over.

    Rhett loved him. He could admit that to himself now that everything was still. He loved this man who thought vanilla was too spicy and openly admitted that Rhett made him feel that _spark_. Link had come into his life at a pivotal moment, when Rhett had just lost his previous roommate and had been feeling more lonely than ever. Now, Rhett was rarely alone. Link seemed content to ride along in the motorcycle sidecar, to sleep on the top bunk, and to try whatever new experience Rhett gave him.

    This new life was almost too good to be true. Deep down, Rhett had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t deserve it.


	3. Interview clothes

    In the morning, a sleepy Link stumbled into the bathroom to find Rhett already dressed and sitting before the mirror. Today, he was wearing a fuzzy blue cardigan over a peach button-down and grey linen pants. He was struggling to put his hair into a bun with one hand.

    “I slept wrong,” was the only explanation he gave. “You cramped my normal sleeping position.”

    Link yawned, raking his own hair back with his fingers. “Let me do it, then.”

    He could’ve sworn that Rhett’s face went red. “No, that’s okay.”

    “It’s no problem.” Link snatched the brush from Rhett’s slack grip. “You’ve done a lot for me by letting me live here and saving me from death by robot and all. Doing your hair is the least I can do.”

    He put the brush to Rhett’s shoulder-length locks, ignoring his roommate’s protests. Gradually, Rhett settled down and let Link do his work.

    “You sleep okay last night?” Link asked.

    “Yep, just fine.”

    “You want to talk about it?”

    “Talk?” Rhett felt his throat closing up, guilt making his palms sweat.

    “About your nightmare.”

    “Oh. No, it’s okay.” Rhett had almost completely forgotten his dream thanks to the events that followed it. “Th-thanks for your help, though.”

    He glanced up in time to catch Link smiling. “No problem, man. What are roommates for?”

    _Roommates._ The word made Rhett’s heart sink a little. Thankfully, Link wasn’t looking for an answer. The only sound in the bathroom was the soft whisper of brush against hair and the hum of the central air vent in the ceiling.

    Link met Rhett’s eyes in the mirror and quickly looked away again. He hoped Rhett hadn’t noticed that he was red-faced as well. He was having trouble finding a place for these feelings that often made his chest ache when he looked at Rhett. Desperately, he cast about for something to say to break the tension he felt building in the small bathroom.

    “Y’know, I-I wanted to be a hairdresser for a while,” he said after a moment.

    “Yeah?” Rhett’s eyes were closed.  For someone who didn’t like being touched, he seemed to be enjoying having his hair brushed. “What happened?”

    “Couldn’t afford the classes.” Link sighed. He ran his fingers slowly through Rhett’s loose strands. “So I started working at the box factory and I guess I got lost in the routine there.”

    “You could still go back to school,” Rhett offered. He caught Link’s gaze in the mirror and held him there, his eyes burning with sudden intensity. “Get a job, go back to school, become a world-famous hairdresser that all the celebrities want to hire.”

    Link couldn’t help grinning at that.

    “But,” Rhett went on, “there’s a wait list so long that the only way to get an appointment is via winning in a cage match to the _death._ This begins severely thinning out the B-list celebrity population, causing a vacuum in the entertainment industry. An avalanche of acting hopefuls overwhelms Hollywood in a desire to replace them. New auditions are held every _hour._ Then, while they’re all occupied with fighting and acting, you can do my hair instead.”

    Link chuckled. “I don’t know if they’d like me that much.”

    “What’s not to like?” Rhett demanded. He clamped his mouth shut suddenly, as if he’d said something wrong.

    Link noticed it. He dropped his hands from Rhett’s hair, his heart hammering away.

    “Do you like me, Rhett?”

    Rhett hunched his shoulders, lowering his eyes to the sink below the mirror. It was a brief movement, but it still made Link’s heart drop.

    “I’ve had better roommates,” Rhett said quietly. “But yeah, I like you best.”

    “Really?” Link knew he was grinning like a fool, but he didn’t care. “You mean it?”

    “Yeah.” Rhett was definitely blushing. Even his ears had gone red. “You’re... you’re my best friend, okay? I’ve said that already.”

    The words filled Link’s chest with a comforting warmth. He’d had friends before, but never any that made him feel the way Rhett did: safe, confident, brave enough to take risks. In a sudden fit of excitement, he gripped his roommate by his cardigan-clad shoulders, shaking gently.

    “You’re my best friend, too, Rhett.”

    At those words, Rhett’s cheeks showed in a small smile. He looked different with his dark blond hair loose around his face. Almost like someone who wanted to be hugged, Link decided. And maybe even a bit shy.

    The thought was unexpected. Link had never thought of Rhett as _shy_ before.

    “Speaking of friends,” he added hastily. “I-I’m sorry if I haven’t been a very good one. I shouldn’t be sitting around the house all day doing nothing. I think I need to get a job.”

    Rhett’s eyebrows came together. “Not at another factory?”

    Link shook his head. “I kinda wanted to try somewhere else. Not sure where, though.”

    “Hmm.” Rhett thought for a moment, nodding slightly. “You need an interview outfit, then. Gotta make a good impression.”

    “No, that would be a waste of money!” Link protested. “I’ll just wear the tux I wore on my date with Vanessa.”

    “You can’t do that!” Rhett spun to face him, his eyes bulging in disbelief. “That’s a date suit. You don’t mix romantic dates and interviews. You might end up on a date with your boss! And you know what they say about office romances.”

    “What?”

    “Well.” Rhett shrugged. “They’re bad.”

    “Then what should I do?”

    Rhett’s gaze dropped to Link’s polo shirt and for a moment it seemed that he was biting his lip.

    “We need to take you clothes shopping.”

    “But—”

    “No buts!” Rhett waved him silent. “Finish my hair, then after I’m done with work for the day, we’re going shopping.”

    Link opened his mouth to insist that he didn’t need to go shopping. But he quickly stopped himself. Life with Rhett had brought with it a fascinating set of experiences. Who was to say that today would be any different?

    “Fine,” he muttered. “Just one question.”

    Rhett raised an eyebrow.

    “How do you put hair in a bun?”

* * *

 

    Link emerged from the fitting room, his legs encased in slacks tighter than any he’d ever worn before. The only thing he liked about the outfit was the red button-down shirt. Rhett was waiting in a chair just outside, sandwiched between two racks of t-shirts. When he saw Link, his face brightened.

    “Nice!”

    “I’m not buying these pants,” Link insisted, plucking at the tight fabric at his waist. “My khaki pants fit me just fine.”

    “You wore booty shorts once,” Rhett reminded him. He frowned critically at the outfit, scratching his beard with one hand. “Didn’t hear you complaining then.”

    “That was for work!”

    “And this is for an _interview_ that will hopefully lead to work,” Rhett reminded him.

    Link rolled his eyes.

    “Listen.” Rhett stepped closer, his voice softening. “Those shorts made you look good.” His eyes were full of that same intensity, that same desire to look _into_ that made Link feel a bit fluttery inside. “These pants make you look good.”

    Link was suddenly very aware of how tall Rhett was, of how close they were standing, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

    “Why does it matter how good I look?” he said quietly. “You said this was for an interview, not a date. Date outfits are separate, or whatever.”

    Silence. There was a flicker of something across Rhett’s face, a string of emotions moving too quickly to grasp.

    “Can’t a man say how good his roommate looks without being questioned?” Rhett said. He tossed up his hands. “Forget it. I tried to get you to look presentable, but you don’t want new clothes. Go to your interview in your date outfit, then.”

    “What... are you saying a polo shirt and khaki pants aren’t presentable?” Link demanded. Frustration with Rhett’s sudden change of attitude made him cranky. “Wait a minute, this wasn’t about getting me an interview outfit, was it? You’re trying to get me to change my wardrobe!”

    “What a crime,” Rhett muttered. “Fine, then. Wear your tux on interviews and dates and see if I care.”

    “Why do you keep bringing that up?” Link snapped. “Are you trying to set me up with somebody? Is that why we’re here? You want to get me new clothes so I can impress one of your friends or something?”

    To his surprise, Rhett’s eyes widened in alarm. “No!” He froze, glancing around at the store around them. There was a tired-looking teenager with his mother over by the rack of sweatpants, but neither of them seemed to have heard his outburst. “No,” he said more quietly.

    “Listen, Rhett,” Link said firmly, his eyes alight behind his glasses. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here, but I promise you that I don’t need to date. It’s really the last thing on my mind. I have you.”

    Rhett went still. “What?”

    “You make me happy, Rhett,” Link went on, his fists clenched to keep his hands from shaking. He wasn’t sure why Rhett was upset, but he wanted to say everything now, to stop holding back. “You’ve shown me things I’d never dreamed about. You got me to like vanilla, for goodness’ sake!” He shuffled towards his roommate, hesitantly lifting his arms to embrace him stiffly. “And I’m sorry I got mad.”

    At that moment, all of Rhett’s defenses crumbled. There were so many things he wanted to say, a tangle of words that he couldn’t begin to unravel. But with the tired-looking teenager and his mother now glancing at them curiously, all he could do was hold Link as tightly as he could.

* * *

 

    Link barely managed to avoid tripping over his own feet as he entered the construction manager’s office for his first interview. A plate on the door said he was meeting with a “BRETT MCFOXLIN.”

    “So!” Brett turned slowly on his office chair to frown at Link across the desk. He was a hairy man, his brown beard and eyebrows bristling with every motion of his face. He wore a construction worker’s hat. Several hats stacked on each other really, all varying shades of neon yellow and orange. It was difficult to look at them for too long.

    Link stood stiff as a board, terrified of doing something wrong. After the previous week’s fuss, he’d decided to stick with wearing his tux for the sake of saving money, in spite of Rhett’s continued objections. He felt uncomfortable wearing it now, as if he was supposed to be waiting for a date at a restaurant instead of attending an interview.

    Rhett had advised him to shake his interviewer’s hand, but Brett’s hands were folded beneath his chin.

    “So!” Brett said again. “Sit down.”

    Quickly, Link sank onto one of the creaking chairs before him.

    “Why do you want to work for McFoxlin Construction?” Brett asked.

    _Make a good impression,_ Rhett had told him. Link sat up straight.

    “I have some sign-holding experience.”

    “Ever been a slow/stop man before?”

    “Um.” Link thought back on his brief, miserable stint as Charlemagne. “No, but I did get hit by a motorcycle once.”

    Brett hummed in understanding. “Tough work. Tell me, did you have a uniform in this sign-holding job of yours?”

    “Yeah. Crop top and short shorts.”

    Brett’s eyes lit up.

    “What a coincidence!” he bellowed, his voice so loud that Link jumped. “That’s the same uniform we require of all of our slow/stop men. In neon colors, of course. For safety.”

    “Oh good—”

    Brett slammed both hands on his desk. The pens rattled in their holder.

    “Stand up!” he roared.

    Link was on his feet before he’d even realized he’d moved. He stood still, hands clamped to his sides in terror as Brett surged to his feet. The construction hats on his head remained still, somehow perfectly balanced. Brett marched around his desk and poked one of Link’s arms.

    “Yes,” he murmured to himself. “You seem to have the physique for sign-holding work.”

    “W-what physique is that?” Link stammered. He stiffened when Brett poked him again.

    “Strong arms,” Brett rumbled. He raked Link with a long gaze. “Also, you have an exquisite waist. Has anyone ever told you that?”

    “Um—”

    “That’s also important for sign-holding,” Brett explained.

    “How—”

    “Don’t ask questions. You can sit down now.”

    Link sank gratefully into his chair. This wasn’t the sort of thing he’d expected from an interview, but maybe things had changed in the years he’d spent working at the factory.

    “So!” Brett said. He dropped into his own chair. “So.” He frowned thoughtfully at Link. “Yes, I’ve made my decision. You’re hired!”

    “Really?” Link could hardly believe his luck. His first interview, and he already had a job? Relief washed over him like a cleansing wave. “Thank you, sir!”

    Brett laughed, a deep, hearty sound. He thrust out a large, callused hand and almost crushed Link’s fingers with his grip. “I’ll have the uniform delivered to you tonight. I expect you back here bright and early tomorrow morning, ready for some sign-holding.”

    Link could hardly contain his smile. “Yes, sir!”

    On his walk home, he couldn’t help but dance a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this fic hasn't gotten TOO erratic, but trust me, it's fun to write. If you've made it through this chapter and somehow still like this thing..........thank you. :) <3


	4. Work uniform

As he neared home, a knot settled in the depths of Link’s chest. His light-hearted steps slowed to a walk. He passed the park, full of excited kids running in the late afternoon heat. The ice cream truck was there as well, parked by the side of the road up ahead. Link waved to George in the window and got a beckoning cow hoof in return, but Link turned down the invitation. He wasn’t in the mood to try any new flavors today.

Things had been awkward between him and Rhett since their embrace in the fitting room the previous week. Rhett seemed to retreat further into his work than before. Link would wake up to the sound of Rhett already recording his meal descriptions, as he now tasted breakfast  _ and  _ lunch foods. He had given Link some job interview advice and told him where to get his tux dry-cleaned, but he was otherwise unusually quiet.

It was unsettling for Link, who had grown accustomed to hearing Rhett chatter on about the new foods he’d tasted or the custom-made peacock feather shawl he’d ordered. He hated walking on eggshells around Rhett when he wasn’t even sure what he had done wrong. In response, Link had thrown himself into the job search, spending hours filling out applications both online and in-person. Rhett had told him to expect multiple interviews before getting a job offer, so he had prepared for a long search. But now that he had a job already, Link would be out of the house for most of the day. He wouldn’t need to see Rhett at all if he didn’t want to.

But it all felt  _ wrong _ . Link was fed up with the tense silence between them, afraid that they might revert to the silent fight that had almost torn their friendship apart. He couldn’t bear the thought of that happening again. He loved Rhett as a roommate and a friend, even if there were times when he inexplicably made Link blush.

As he rounded the corner of his street, Link straightened, removing his hands from his pockets. He had a job now. That news would be enough to break the silence between them. He walked more quickly towards the house, past the parked motorcycle and its sidecar and the seesaw that he and Rhett sometimes used on sunny weekends. He made up his mind to sit his roommate down to ask him  _ why. _

In the house, he found Rhett on his side of the two-person couch, watching a home improvement show with his chin in his hands. He was wearing a crimson v-neck with jeans, an oddly plain combination. When he saw Link, he muted the TV.

“No Kenneth Kenneth?” Link asked.

“Nah. Sometimes I just like watching people work with wood. It’s comforting.” Rhett stretched with a yawn, his joints popping loudly. “So how’d the interview go?”

“Well.” Link grinned. “I got the job.”

Rhett’s eyes bulged. “On the first interview, huh?”

Link nodded. “They’re delivering my uniform soon.”

“That’s great, man.” Rhett smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. He unmuted the TV in time for Link to hear a grim-voiced woman explain the necessity of precise measurements when carving wood.

Disappointment flooded Link’s mind, tempered by a burst of anger. He wanted Rhett to jump up and give him a high five or a jubilant hug. He wanted to talk about his strange new boss and his tower of construction hats. But Rhett was still ignoring him. In two steps, he crossed the room and hit the power button on the TV.

“Hey!” Rhett sprang up from the couch. “I was watching that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Link asked. He wanted to yell, but he’d remembered his mother telling him that “raised voices never raised spirits.” And yelling had only led to him and Rhett fighting before. So he spoke quietly, his fists clenched to keep them from shaking.

Rhett shook his head and moved to leave the room, but Link caught his arm. He had a good grip from his years of factory work. He squeezed gently, enough to show that he was serious.

“Why are you acting like this, Rhett?”

“Not acting,” Rhett grunted. He tried to shake Link off, but his roommate refused to let go. “I’m happy for you.”

“It doesn’t seem like it. Did something bad happen at work?” Link swallowed, his heart rate quickening as he continued. “A-are you upset with me?”

Rhett shook his head. He wouldn’t make eye contact, but Link had a sudden thought.

“Does this have something to do with me hugging you or that night I rubbed your chest a little? Since you don’t like being touched?”

“I—”

“It does, doesn’t it!” Link beamed triumphantly. He’d seen the surprise briefly cross Rhett’s face. 

“Well.” Rhett’s tongue darted out. “Maybe.”

“Knew it!” Link released his friend’s arm, glad that Rhett didn’t immediately bolt from the room. “It’s because I didn’t brush my teeth that night, wasn’t it?”

He was greeted with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“A-are you serious right now?” Rhett’s voice was a stunned monotone.

“Yep.” Link felt better now that he understood the situation, but there was still a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d hoped that Rhett might hug him again. “Well, I’ll have you know that since I have a job now, I’ll make sure to wear extra deodorant and brush my teeth every night. So the next time you have a nightmare and need someone to rub your chest, you won’t have to smell my breath—”

“Good gosh, Link, no!” Rhett’s hands went to his forehead. “That’s not...” He crossed his arms, and words poured from him in a sudden rush. “This has nothing to do with you, Link. It’s just... listen, over the past few months, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. I’ve been realizing that maybe I like you as more than a friend.”

His words made Link feel fluttery inside. “Really?”

“But I understand I shouldn’t!” Rhett continued quickly. “You’re not interested in relationships and I know you’ve only kissed your relatives. You’re a man-child with no concept of this topic.”

Link winced. “Hey, now.”

“But you’ve become such a big part of my life. The missing half, I guess. And I-I really like you. But not just as a roommate or a best friend.” Rhett trailed off. His face had gone as red as his shirt.

“What do you like me as, then?” Link spread his arms wide. He felt nervous. This was not what he had expected. “Tell me.”

To his surprise, Rhett let out a groan of frustration. “Oh for God’s sake...” He licked his lips. His eyes were piercing. “Link, I like you as a... as an individual with whom I would like to be partnered. Romantically.”

Link frowned, tilting his head as he considered the words. “Like business partners?”

“No, dammit!” Rhett slapped his hands on his thighs. “Boyfriend, Link. I like you as a boyfriend.”

Link’s eyebrows shot up. This was quite different from what he’d expected, but he was strangely excited by it. “Y-you  _ like _ me, Rhett? The way I liked Vanessa?”

“Yes. More than that, even.” Rhett's voice had gone very quiet. “But I know that it’s a waste of time and I should focus on work and maybe find somebody at the coffee shop to date—”

“Wait.” Link closed the space between them, tilting his head back to look Rhett in the eye. He was close enough to feel the heat coming off his roommate’s chest. “Don’t do that. I like you, too.”

“As a boyfriend?” Rhett asked.

“As a boyfriend.” Link moved closer and, when he was met with no resistance, he wrapped Rhett in a close hug. “I like you so much, Rhett. I’ve told you that over and over and over.”

“You do?” Rhett’s heart was hammering away beneath his shirt, his voice faint with disbelief.

Link only hugged him tighter. When Rhett’s arms encircled him, he couldn’t help smiling. His roommate made him feel warm and comforted the way no one else could. Almost made him wonder what it would be like to press their lips together, but the idea was nerve-wracking. He wasn’t even sure where to start with kissing, so he contented himself with letting his head rest on Rhett’s chest.

“There’s always been something different about the way you smell.” He stopped short. Was this an acceptable thing to say to someone he wanted to kiss?

Rhett said nothing, but Link sensed him waiting.

“It’s deep, musky, warm...” Link closed his eyes. “Makes me feel safe, I guess.”

“Congratulations on your job,” Rhett whispered.

“Thanks,” Link whispered back. He felt as if he could stay here forever, embracing his favorite person in the middle of the living room.

When Rhett spoke again, his voice was soft. “Do you  _ really _ want to be my boyfriend?”

“Of course,” Link murmured. “I’ve never liked anyone else as much as I’ve liked you.”

“But do you really want me—”

The doorbell rang, shattering the mood like a rock through a pane of glass. They sprang apart. Link adjusted his bowtie. Rhett brushed back some flyaway hairs from his forehead.

“I’ll get it,” Link said. He staggered for the door, his head buzzing with more thoughts and feelings than he knew what to do with. He opened the door to find their mailman Dylan standing there.

“Delivery for Link Neal!” he exclaimed. “From your new job, apparently. Not that I would know,” he added hastily. “It’s not like I peek at people’s mail or anything—”

Link snatched the small box from him and slammed the door.

“You gonna try it on?” Rhett asked. Link turned to find him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He seemed to have regained his composure quickly. Link glanced down at the package in his hands.

“I guess I should.”

Five minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, his hands on his hips. He wore a safety-orange crop top, tiny denim cutoffs, orange tube socks that matched the top, and brown, steel-toed boots. He didn’t feel comfortable with the uniform yet, but he felt he could get used to it. It would be nice to have a colorful uniform, instead of the drab brown coveralls he’d worn in his last job.

He didn’t expect Rhett to stare. The attention was rather thrilling. Link struck what he thought was a confident pose, his head tilted up and his shoulders thrown back.

“So what do you th—”

Rhett crossed the room in a rush, forcing Link back against the wall. His eyes were dark and ravenous, as if he wanted to devour Link just by looking at him. His fingers ghosted over Link’s bare sides.

“This is okay?” he murmured, and the sound of his voice made Link hot all over. He was overcome with a desire to run his hands all over Rhett, to see what the skin beneath his shirt felt like, but he was having difficulty finding his voice and his hands weren’t cooperating either.

“Yeah,” he managed.

Rhett’s lips parted as he leaned in closer, his hands coming to rest on Link’s hips.

Link tilted his face upward, waiting for what he could only hope was a kiss.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the tension like a chainsaw through a branch.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The doorbell rang again. With a grumble of frustration, Rhett went to answer it. Link was left shivering at the sudden absence of warmth.

“Forgot something,” Dylan said cheerfully when Rhett opened the door. “There was an extra meal for you to taste today, Rhett!”

Rhett snatched the small box from him and slammed the door.

“Of all the times for him to make another delivery,” he muttered, tossing the box aside.

Link was still trembling, more from nerves than anything else. “I’m gonna go change.”

“Wait.” It was Rhett’s turn to catch his arm. “Do you still wanna...”

“Um.” Now that he’d had a moment to absorb what was happening, Link was apprehensive. Change made him nervous at the best of times, and he felt unprepared for whatever Rhett had planned. “Could we talk some more? After I change? This is... this is all happening so fast. Maybe we could take it slow.”

Rhett looked as forlorn as if someone had snatched away his dinner plate before he’d begun eating. But he only nodded, whispered a weak, “Yeah,” and backed away.


	5. Understanding

    The next morning commenced with a whirlwind of activity. Rhett awoke early to eat breakfast with Link. His roommate was alight with nervous energy, springing up from the table for a second bowl of cereal as he happily chattered away about his hopes for his new job. He finished his breakfast before Rhett was even halfway through his waffle and headed for the door with a quick wave. Then the house was quiet again.

    Rhett felt lonely already.

    Moments later, however, the door flew open again and Link scampered back in. Rhett looked up, confused.

    “What...?”

    There was a rush of cool air followed by gentle warmth as Link embraced him from behind, his face right by Rhett’s ear.

    “This is what boyfriends do, right?” he asked tentatively.

    Rhett barely managed to nod. “Yeah,” he whispered.

    “What’s wrong, does my breath smell bad?”

    “Um, no.”

    “Good.” Link gave him a gentle squeeze. “Bye, Rhett.”

    Rhett made sure to get a good look at his retreating figure this time. He looked absolutely ridiculous in his uniform: broad shoulders bulging beneath the crop top, bright socks peeking over the top of his work boots. But all Rhett could think about was feeling that exposed skin beneath his fingers again.

    He tried to go about his day as usual, but even wearing his favorite floral charmeuse blouse and chino pants didn’t seem to help. Dylan delivered some bacon-wrapped burritos, making a not-so-subtle attempt at peeking over Rhett’s shoulder in the hopes of seeing Link before the door was closed in his face. Rhett went to the table, where he sat nibbling at the bacon as he tried to formulate his thoughts on its taste, but he couldn’t concentrate. Finally, he shut his laptop with a curse and went out for a motorcycle ride.

    It was pleasantly warm and sunny outside, the type of weather that usually lifted Rhett’s spirits. But today, he cruised the streets aimlessly, brooding all the while.

    So he and Link were dating. What would come next? They’d probably slowly grow closer, both emotionally and physically. But what then? Link’s reluctance to experience new things was a definite problem. What if he grew tired of Rhett one day and moved on to someone more predictable and boring?

    Rhett gripped the motorcycle handlebars more tightly, his jaw clenched. He didn’t think he could bear being abandoned another time, not after he’d found someone he truly liked. Maybe admitting his feelings hadn’t been such a good idea.

    Sometime later, he found himself at the park, near George’s ice cream truck. He decided to stop and try a new flavor; it had been weeks since he’d last done so.

    “Rhett!” George waved from the window of the truck, his face alight with a kindly smile. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a month. I was worried you’d gotten sick or something!”

    “Sorry, George.” Rhett smiled, but he wasn’t sure if the expression was convincing. “There’s been a lot going on.” George nodded understandingly; he was always sympathetic without asking too many questions.

    Rhett scanned the list of flavors on the side of the truck, murmuring to himself, “First day of school, new carpet, blood orange... do you have anything new that you think I might like?”

    “Of course.” George began scooping ice cream into a waffle cone, the kind that Rhett liked when he tried a new flavor. “So how have you been, Rhett? How’s Link? I saw him yesterday, but he didn’t stop to talk.”

    “Pretty good! He’s, uh, actually my boyfriend now.”

    “Oh!” George’s face brightened. “You finally have a better half. Good to hear.”

    “Almost too good.” Rhett sighed.

    “What do you mean? Wait.” George handed him the cone, topped with one scoop of white ice cream streaked with blue. “Try this first.”

    Rhett took a small mouthful. The bitter taste almost brought tears to his eyes.

    George tapped his cow hoof on the window frame. “Describe.”

    “Loss,” Rhett said quietly.

    He was aware of a small crowd gathering around him; the usual ice cream crowd always appreciated a good taste description.

    “Loss,” he said again. “So devastating that you know you’ll never recover. You’re five years old and the games you play are the most important things in the world to you. But you’ve lost your favorite action figure somewhere in the house. You’ve been searching everywhere — under the bed, in the toy chest, in your stepbrother’s room — but it’s gone.”

    He took another bite.

    “But what’s that peeking out under the couch cushion? A familiar plastic arm. Maybe all hope isn’t lost. You pull it out and scream in terror.” There are several gasps from the assembled crowd. “Turns out Manny the dog thought the Undertaker was his new chew toy. So now your favorite action figure is headless with teeth marks all over him. You’re devastated. But you learn a valuable lesson that day. Everything you love will be destroyed one day.” He paused. “Also, ask your mom to put your toys on a shelf or something.”

    A murmur ran through the people around him, punctuated with scattered applause. Rhett finished the cone quickly, only stopping to wince at the resulting brain freeze. When he turned back to George, he found the man eyeing him with his brow creased with fatherly concern.

    “Is something wrong, Rhett?”

    Gut instinct told Rhett to say no and redirect the conversation with a joke, but the sincerity on George’s face stopped him. He sighed.

    “Yeah.”

    “Hold on.” George raised his hand. “This is no way to have a serious conversation. He shut the truck’s window, put up a sign that read, “BACK IN 10 MIN” and disappeared. A moment later, he emerged from the back of the truck. “Come sit with me, Rhett.”

    “I’m just worried,” Rhett said as he sat on the rear bumper beside George. “See, I like Link a _lot._ He complements me in a way that no one else has. And he compliments me a lot, too!”

    George laughed. “Always a good combination.”

    “But — and this is stupid since we just became boyfriends yesterday — I’m already wondering when he’s going to leave me. When I’ll have to move on to someone else.”

    It sounded foolish spoken aloud, on a sunny afternoon in the park where it seemed that nothing could go wrong. George, however, still seemed to be listening patiently, so Rhett went on.

    “Not many people have stayed with me for long,” he said quietly. “My dad left. My friends moved on to other things. No one I’ve lived with has stayed longer than a few months.”

    “Why do you think that is?”

    Rhett shrugged. “Well, my last roommate died in a train crash. The rest got tired of me after a while, I suppose.”

    “Or you got tired of them.” George gave him a knowing nudge.

    “That happens, too,” Rhett admitted. “People get tired of me always trying new things, and I get tired of them complaining about me trying new things.”

    “Does Link ever complain?”

    “Sometimes. But he’s usually ready to go along with whatever I’m doing, even if he has his own rules that he insists on following.” The realization felt almost surprising. It did seem that Link had more patience with him than anyone else he’d known.

    “Listen, Rhett,” George said gently. “You and I have a lot in common. We both love experiencing all the new flavors that the world have to offer. But we need to remember that the people who choose to stay with us along the way are what’s most important.

    “No one’s going to completely live up to your expectations. But if you find someone like Link, someone who’s willing to be a part of your life in a way that few people have, I’d suggest that you be honest with him. Don’t take him for granted. Let him know how much he means to you with both your words and your actions.”

    Rhett found himself nodding as he considered this. “Thanks, George,” he said after a moment. “I think I’ll try that. You give good advice.”

    George laughed. “I was a therapist years ago, before I retired and bought this truck.” He waved his cow hoof. “That’s how I got this thing.”

    “But how...” Rhett broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind. I don’t need to know.” He stood, stretched, and slipped his phone from his pocket to check the time. “Oh, I better get going. Link’s gonna be home soon. Thanks for the ice cream, George. And the advice.”

    “Anytime, Rhett!”

    The trip home was brief, despite a few extra minutes spent in traffic. Rhett entered the house feeling lighter than he had in days.

* * *

 

    The construction crew was preparing to pave a stretch of a two-way road, leaving one lane available for traffic. Link wound his way among the steamrollers and chatting construction workers to Brett McFoxlin, whose tower of construction hats looked taller than ever. The man was handing out hard hats to a group of younger workers who peered curiously at Link as he joined them. Link wasn’t sure what to do, so he smiled crookedly at them and waited.

    “Link!” Brett bellowed. “Good to see you!” He sent the others away with a wave and looked Link up and down. “I see our uniform fits you well.”

    Link glanced around the construction site, at the workers wearing safety vests and hard hats and jeans. “Why am I the only one who has to wear this, though?”

    “Because!” Brett’s loud voice made Link flinch. “Safety first. We need traffic to pay attention to your sign. Would you stop driving if you saw a man in a neon orange crop top by the side of the road?”

    Link considered this. “I guess so.”

    “Exactly! Now take these and come with me.” Brett handed Link a hard hat, a walkie-talkie, and a sign with “SLOW” on one side and “STOP” on the other.

    He led Link a short ways down the side of the road, stopping in a patch of gravel beside it. “Your job will be to stand here. When someone says ‘switch’ on the walkie, turn your sign from stop to slow. When they say it again, turn it back to stop. Got it?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Good!” Brett gave him a painfully hard pat on the back. “You wouldn’t believe the number of people we hired who couldn’t grasp that concept. Now get to it!”

    Link liked being a slow/stop man. It was boring enough for him to get comfortable, yet had a better variety of scenery than his previous job. The traffic provided a variety of cars and trucks to watch.

    The day progressed smoothly, despite Brett repeatedly popping up to bellow at Link and ask how he was doing. At lunch, he managed to find a food truck that sold plain grilled cheese sandwiches. Link ate his lunch alone, his back to a tree growing on the side of the road. He watched the cars drive past and daydreamed about embracing his new boyfriend again.

* * *

 

    Rhett was sautéing chopped vegetables over the stove when he heard the front door open.

    “Hey, how was your first day?” he called.

    “Not bad.” Link shambled into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. He looked markedly less enthusiastic than he had that morning, but he still managed a tired smile. “Didn’t realize that standing in one place all day could be so exhausting. It’s pretty boring. Exactly my type of job.”

    Rhett rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

    He turned back to the sizzling pan on the stove. After a few moments, he realized that Link hadn’t moved. He was biting his lip, his gaze on the floor.

    “Something wrong?” Rhett asked.

    “Nah.” Link absently scratched the back of his neck. “You think we could take a little trip before it gets dark? To empty my mustachenvelope.”

    “The symbolic gesture of personal change that’s been wasted since you grew your mustache back?”

    Link grinned. “Aw, stop it, man.”

    “We can go. It’s no problem.” Rhett turned back to the stove.

    “Good,” Link murmured. He sauntered out of the kitchen. A few moments later, Rhett heard the shower running. He tried not to think too much about Link standing beneath the shower, completely naked, head tilted back and mouth open as he shampooed his hair, muscles glistening with rivulets of running water...

    Rhett shook his head vigorously. "Not now, boner," he muttered under his breath. "Not now."

* * *

 

    Link hadn’t gone back to his old elementary school in years, but it was just as he remembered it — a low brick building with a fenced-in playground in the back. He and Rhett stood in the empty parking lot, which was in desperate need of repaving.

    “Why did you want to come back here?” Rhett asked.

    “I used to dream about having a best friend,” Link admitted sheepishly. “But everyone I got close to eventually drifted away.”

    Rhett’s eyes widened at that. “Really?”

    “Yep. You’re the first person outside my family who’s really wanted to stick around. I always wanted to have a best friend, but I never found one and I ended up working so much after school that I didn’t have time for friends anyway.” Link sighed. “I guess I wanted to come back here and think about how much things have changed. Sorry if this sounds weird.”

    “No, no, I understand completely!” Rhett burst out. “I’ve always felt like half of something, if you couldn’t tell by the seesaw and bunk beds and motorcycle with a sidecar. Ever since I was a kid, too.”

    Link opened the mustachenvelope and scattered the hair on the evening breeze. He didn’t bother holding his breath for something special to happen, as he had before. He was ready to complete this task and go home for the night.

    “You’re not gonna say anything to mark the occasion?”

    Link shrugged. “Don’t have much to say.”

    Rhett shook his head. “So tell me, why did you want to do all of this with your mustache hair if you were just going to grow it back?”

    “Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.” Link was quiet for a moment. “What do you think it would’ve been like if we’d known each other as kids, Rhett?”

    His roommate considered this. “I would’ve probably felt less empty,” he admitted. “If I knew I had you.”

    Link chuckled. He caught Rhett’s hand in his and squeezed. “Me too, man.”

    To his surprise, he got a squeeze in return.

    “Hey.” Rhett was eyeing him with that strange, piercing look again. “Could I... would it be okay if... if kiss you?”

    At those words, Link almost thought he _heard_ things click into place. Now he understood it all. Of _course_ he wanted to kiss Rhett. He would do anything for him.

    All he managed was to widen his eyes and say, “Oh.”

    “Could I?” Rhett asked again. “Because if you’d rather not, that’s—”

    Link pulled him in by the lapels of his coat and smushed their lips together.

    He had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Kissing family members was a brief, obligatory thing. This kiss, however, was one that he wanted to last.

    Luckily, Rhett took the lead. He cupped the back of Link’s head with one hand. His tongue gently prodded at Link’s lips, slipping between when he was granted access. His other hand came to rest on the small of Link’s back, pressing their bodies together.

    It felt amazing to be so close to someone else. Link’s senses were full of Rhett: his scent, his taste, his firm touch. His arms twined around Rhett’s torso. Suddenly, he desperately needed every square inch of his body to be in contact with Rhett’s. The intensity of his own desire was almost frightening. He’d never felt anything like this before. Breathless, he pulled away for air, his head reeling.

    “Rhett... I....”

    “Maybe we should go home,” Rhett murmured, his eyes dark.

    “Wait.” Link was almost pleading. He darted back in, pressing their lips together once more. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of their mouths together.

    Rhett had been right.

    There were definitely some kisses that no relative should ever give.


	6. California king

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to [mythical-michelle](http://mythical-michelle.tumblr.com) for beta-reading this chapter!

For a few weeks after their first kiss, Link floated around in a giddy haze. During the day, he stood on the side of the road with his slow/stop sign, soothed by the mind-numbing nature of his job. Afterwards, he and Rhett explored the city together on Rhett’s motorcycle. They tasted new ice cream flavors with George, attended the showing of  _ The Nutcracker _ that they’d won from the radio station’s prank call, and went clothes shopping. Or rather, Rhett tried on fancy clothes while Link offered his opinions on the outfits.

At night, he and Rhett squeezed into the bottom bunk together. There wasn’t much room for both of them, but Link didn’t mind. He liked being close to his boyfriend. He came to appreciate the way Rhett’s face softened when he moved in for a kiss, the crinkles around his green eyes when he laughed, and his half-asleep grumpy mumbling in the morning. With Rhett beside him, he slept more deeply than he had in years and awoke feeling safe and warm.

“Hey, Rhett, why do we eat chocolate before bed?” he asked one night. The two of them were entwined in the bottom bunk. Rhett had discarded his pajama top at some point. Link was nestled in close beside him, tracing random shapes in the freckles on Rhett’s shoulder.

“Because it’s important. It’s been scientifically proven that the release of endorphins and serotonin from chocolate consumption is best experienced right before sleeping.”

“I never heard of that before.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Rhett shifted a little. “Gosh, man. Your feet are cold.”

Link pulled his feet back. “Sorry. I can put on some socks.”

Rhett wrinkled his nose. “Those one hundred percent cotton monstrosities on my silk sheets? Never.”

“I think my pajamas are cotton,” Link pointed out.

“Well, I don’t really have a choice but to let you wear those, do I?” Rhett’s eyes lit up. “Unless you want to take ‘em off?”

“N-no thanks.” Link shook his head.

After the Spa Chula fiasco, the thought of being naked with anyone — even Rhett — was almost enough to make him break out in hives. He wanted to feel comfortable with kissing and bed-sharing first.

“It’s okay if you’re not good at kissing,” Rhett told him the next morning over breakfast. He’d just finished a waffle topped with whipped cream (an addition suggested by Link) and was scrolling through Instagram on his phone. “This isn’t a school assignment. You don’t need a passing grade before moving on to something else.”

“But I  _ want _ to get better,” Link said stubbornly. “If we move too fast, I might make mistakes.”

“Mistakes are part of life!” When Link remained unconvinced, Rhett sighed. “Look. Would it make you feel better if I started grading our kisses?”

Link’s face brightened. “Actually... yes!”

Rhett’s eyebrows lifted in bewilderment. “You’re serious.”

“Absolutely!” Link got up to put his empty cereal bowl in the sink.

“Well, I’m not doing it,” Rhett yelled after him. “That’s stupid.”

“Says the man who organizes the clothes in his closet from least to most comfortable,” Link called back. He emerged from the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“That’s the most logical way of organizing them! And it’s not ‘from least to most comfortable.’ It’s ‘from  _ pretty _ comfortable to  _ exquisitely  _ comfortable.”

“Whatever, man.” Link shook his head. “I need to go to work.”

He left the room to find his work boots, returning to give Rhett a peck on the cheek.

“C minus,” Rhett said, his eyes never leaving his phone.

In a sudden burst of annoyance, Link seized Rhett’s chin in one hand. He darted in for a kiss, attacking the inside of Rhett’s mouth with every technique he’d learned over the past few weeks. Rhett exhaled sharply in surprise, but returned the kiss with equal vigor. He slid his chair back, dragging Link between his knees. His fingers dug almost painfully into the exposed skin of Link’s torso, as if he never wanted to let go.

Link was the first to break away, his chest heaving. Rhett looked up at him, his eyes glassy and his face slack with awe. He lowered his head to the crook of Link’s neck, pressing his lips there. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“All your kisses are perfect, Link. Every single one of them.”

They were so close that Link could feel Rhett’s heart pounding through his shirt. He almost gave in to the feel of soft hands on his skin, but his eyes fell on Rhett’s phone.

He was going to be late for work.

With a gasp, he straightened, disentangled Rhett’s hands from his body. A small part of him relished in the disappointment that crossed Rhett’s face. Being in control of this situation was thrilling.

“Don’t wanna miss work,” he said, tongue darting between his teeth.

He strode from the house with a jaunty swagger, fully aware of Rhett’s gaze following his every move.

* * *

 

After that, their make out sessions got steamier. Link quickly learned that there was a whole lot more to making out than simply kissing. There was so much else to explore. Like Rhett’s broad chest and stomach and the way he sucked the air in between his teeth when his nipples got pinched.

“Not so hard, man,” he chided on multiple occasions, which always made Link chuckle. “I’m real sensitive there!”

Link still didn’t want to get naked, though.

Late one afternoon, he was at his usual post beside the road with his sign, grinning absently as he remembered that morning. Rhett had come up behind him and nuzzled at his throat and murmured that there would be a surprise waiting for him after work. Link imagined it was something related to food or new clothes, but he was still curious.

As his thoughts wandered, a mail truck pulled up alongside him. He found himself face-to-face with a smirking Dylan.

“Hey, hot stuff. What’s up?”

Link’s face crinkled in annoyance. He wanted to daydream. “Hey.”

Dylan’s eyes dropped to the rest of his outfit. “Nice shorts. Almost as cool as mine.”

Link bristled. “These shorts are very cool!”

“Oh really?” Dylan opened the mail truck door and stuck out one hairy leg. “Are your shorts one hundred percent wool?”

Link glanced down at his cutoffs. “Well, no.”

“It’s okay,” Dylan said quickly. “No need to be ashamed. Denim is the second-best fabric, after wool.”

“Since when do you know about fabric?”

“I’ve been studying!” Dylan hopped off the truck and held up his phone. Link got a glimpse of “THE HISTORY OF MODERN FABRICS” before it was snatched away again. “Rhett’s always going on about different fabrics, so I figured it would help if I knew what he was talking about.” His eyes narrowed. “Speaking of Rhett, are the two of you...?”

Link squinted at him. “Are we what?”

“Oh, it’s just that I delivered his mail earlier and I saw a bunch of construction work going on.” Dylan shrugged dismissively. “Made me wonder if you guys were a couple or something.”

“How does being a couple mean that we hire construction workers?”

“Remodeling! It’s the first rule of living with your lover. You have to take your home and remake it to fit around your relationship.”

Link shook his head. “You must’ve been at the wrong house. Rhett wouldn’t make any big changes without asking me first.”

“I heard hammering sounds, so I went inside and saw him standing in the backyard. He was telling someone where to put this truck full of lumber. Then he saw me and said to put the mail on the porch and to please stop coming into his house without asking.” Dylan sighed, his gaze momentarily growing distant. “Good man.”

A knot of anxiety settled in Link’s chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, he’s a good man.” Dylan gave Link a nudge and a wink. “But then, you probably know that better than anyone, huh?”

* * *

 

There were certain things in life that made Rhett feel alive, his favorite being the prospect of Something New. He had insisted that he pick Link up from work today, so he spent extra time on his outfit. A pastel green henley complimented by a cream ascot tie, cropped grey pants, and leather loafers. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror before hurrying from the bathroom to find his motorcycle helmet and goggles.

The trip was brief and full of nerves. Rhett weaved between lanes of traffic, ignoring the honks and protests of angry drivers. Wind whipped past his face as he rounded the corner of the road where Link was working. He saw his boyfriend leaning on his sign, now turned to “SLOW,” his bright clothes standing out against his surroundings. Link waved as soon as he caught sight of the motorcycle.

It took a few moments for Link to pass off his sign to someone else, but once he was in the sidecar and wearing his helmet, Rhett took off for home.

“What’s the hurry?” Link yelled over the roar of the motor.

“Got a surprise for you,” Rhett yelled back. He felt a flicker of excitement when Link’s face brightened.

Back at the house, Rhett caught Link’s hand before he climbed out of the sidecar.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his heart pounding. “It’s around back.” Link grimaced, but obeyed.

“You know I don’t like surprises, man,” he said as Rhett led him around the house to the backyard.

“You’ll like this one.” Rhett maneuvered Link to the exact middle of the backyard, hands firmly on broad shoulders. He stopped. “Okay, open your eyes.”

Silence.

“Good gracious,” Link said softly. “What did you do?”

For years, there had been nothing in the backyard but a few wooden steps and an expanse of grass. But thanks to the rushed work of the contractors that Rhett had handsomely paid, there was now a full deck extending from the house, shaded by a massive green-and-white striped awning above the sliding door.

“I figured it was time to do something with the backyard. Spruce it up a bit, in case we have visitors. So I paid for the best deck I could find.” Rhett knew he was speaking too fast; he couldn’t seem to stop himself when he was nervous. “The stain on it is still drying, so we can’t walk on it yet. But when it’s done, we can hold a massive party out here and nobody will need to worry about getting wet if it rains!”

“That’s cool, man.” Link grinned up at him.

It wasn’t the reaction Rhett had hoped for, but he didn’t lose hope. He guided Link around the house towards the front door. “The best part is still inside! Close your eyes again.”

He led Link inside to the bedroom, his heart pounding. He was proud of getting everything ready in time. The bunk beds had been replaced by a massive California king bed, festooned with overstuffed pillows and fuzzy blankets. Rhett had taken the initiative to spread rose petals on the floor. Gentle music played from the bluetooth speaker on the nightstand. Along the wall were two identical dressers. One was topped with a photo of Rhett smouldering at the camera, the other with a picture of Link smiling tentatively.

Rhett lowered his head to Link’s ear. “Open your eyes.”

He felt Link’s shoulders stiffen. “What. The heck.”

“I got rid of the bunk beds right after you left for work this morning.” Rhett couldn’t stop beaming. “It was a lot of work, but all worth it! Now we don’t have to squeeze into the bottom bunk together anymore. I also added the perfect number of blankets to prevent the fan from lowering the optimal sleeping temperature too far.” He stopped for breath. “Do you like it?”

He felt his stomach drop when Link shook him off and stalked out of the room.

“Link!”

Rhett found him in the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors shut as he grabbed a cereal bowl.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. When Link wouldn’t look at him, he grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do all of this, Rhett? I liked the bunk beds.” The words were angry, but Link only looked hurt, the way he had when their friendship had been on trial.

Rhett was at a loss. “I-I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“This isn’t the kind of surprise I like,” he said as he poured cereal into the bowl. “I need to know ahead of time.”

“But it wouldn’t be a surprise then,” Rhett protested. “It would just be a plan.”

“Yeah. A plan. Practicing good communication and figuring things out together. My favorite kind of surprise.”

“But...”  _ But that’s no fun.  _ Rhett leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “When I asked George about us, he said I should let you know how I feel through my words and actions, so that’s why—”

“Hold on. You told  _ George _ about us?”

“Yes!”

Link’s face went red. “But this is  _ private _ , Rhett.”

Rhett groaned. “Not everything has to be private and boring. Look.” He crossed the room to the window, pushed it open, and put his face against the screen. “Hey! Hey, everybody!  _ I love Link Neal _ !”

“Stop! Stop it!” Link rushed to slam the window down. “Why are you doing this, Rhett? Why do we have to move so fast?”

“Fast?” Rhett repeated. “Buddy, we’d have to speed up a whole bunch to be considered  _ slow. _ ”

“But does that matter?” Link looked genuinely confused. “Isn’t it enough that—”

“Look, I’m scared, okay?” Rhett snapped. “I’m scared you’re going to leave me just like everyone else.”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet Link’s gaze for a tortured moment. When he got no response, he looked up to find tears in Link’s eyes.

Rhett opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could speak, Link darted across the kitchen and embraced him.

“Rhett,” he said softly. “How do you think I feel? This is all brand new for me. I’ve never been in a relationship before.” He huffed out a laugh. “I’m freakin’ terrified.”

Out of habit, Rhett began offering reassurance, but stopped himself. That wasn’t what either of them needed. He wrapped his arms around Link’s shoulders, offering what little comfort he could manage.

“I’m not leaving you, Rhett,” Link said, his voice muffled by Rhett’s shirt. “Why do you think I stayed at my factory job for so long?”

“Because you lack imagination,” Rhett muttered.

“No...” Link’s chuckle was felt rather than heard. “Once I find something I like, I stick with it.”

* * *

 

Link had known of desire as an abstract thing, something he’d seen in books and movies. He had never understood the point of it, or of any emotions, really. Better to keep the mind numb with dull work and spend the evenings organizing piles of clean laundry.

He was overwhelmed with desire now. He felt voracious, feeding a hunger he’d only just discovered, as he and Rhett locked lips. He needed to feel every square inch of his boyfriend’s warm skin beneath his fingers. Rhett muttered something about getting to bed, so they stumbled from the kitchen, trying to walk and kiss and feel each other up in a hot, fumbling, breathless blur.

Once flat on his back in the bedroom, Link returned to his senses a little. He was surrounded by the light scent of rose petals. Gentle guitar music was still playing on the nightstand speaker. He’d lost his glasses and crop top along the way and the sun was setting outside, so the room around him was dim and soft. Rhett was lying half on top of him, nuzzling softly at his throat in a way that made Link’s skin prickle in delicious anticipation. He reached up to pull the tie from Rhett’s hair, letting his locks flow freely.

“Just let me know what you want me to do,” Rhett murmured, lifting his head. His eyes were alight with that piercing gaze he’d fixed on Link many times before, but here, it felt even more intense.

Words tumbled out, high and pleading. “I want to touch you, Rhett. All of you.”

Rhett made a low sound of agreement. He discarded his henley shirt and cropped pants, and propped himself up on an elbow by Link’s side, his briefs clearly outlining arousal that mirrored Link’s own. “You can do the rest,” he said with a chuckle. “Can I touch you, too?”

“What? You mean... oh, no no no.” Link shook his head vigorously. “I-I don’t want to be naked, man. But I don’t want to stop!” Anxiety spiked as he fumbled for the right words. “I-I can’t... I just want to touch you!” he finished in a burst of frustration.

Rhett quickly soothed him with another soft kiss. “We can take it slow,” he whispered. “Just the way you like it.” He guided one of Link’s hands to the waistband of his briefs. “How ‘bout you start here?”

Link scoffed. “You don’t miss any excuse to get naked, do you?”

“Listen.” A grin slowly spread across Rhett’s face as he lay back, Link’s hand moving in small circles on his belly. “The only alternative to wearing the most comfortable fabrics in the world is to be naked.” He began saying something else about a nudist colony he’d visited once, but Link’s hand slipped into his briefs and he trailed off with a gasp.

“Gosh, that’s good,” he whispered almost to himself. “So good...”

Link was entranced. The sight of Rhett giving in to pleasure was something else entirely, his eyes closed and his hair splayed around him on the pillow. It didn’t take long for his chest to begin heaving as Link’s hand worked rapidly on him. He gasped out breathless encouragement, clutching Link’s thigh with one hand. When he came, it was with a soft moan that cut deeply to Link’s core.

The sight of him completely lost in the afterglow was something Link would never forget. Rhett was too far gone to reciprocate the kisses that Link pressed all over his face, but he didn’t care. He’d never seen Rhett look so peaceful and relaxed, his eyes soft and distant as he caught his breath. He cleaned them both off with tissues on the nightstand, then wrapped them both in the covers and pulled a sleepy Rhett into his arms.

Rhett stirred, murmuring something about returning the favor, but Link only shook his head.

“Maybe later,” he whispered, lacing their fingers together.

All was peaceful for a moment, the room quiet except for the sound of light piano music and their own breathing.

Rhett stirred after a moment. “I’m surprised you knew what to do.”

Link got in one good pinch on Rhett’s elbow before they were wrestling in a flurry of long limbs and rose petals. They ended up with Link holding Rhett in a headlock, one leg wrapped around Rhett’s waist.

“It was a joke, man!” Rhett said hastily. “A joke!”

“Whatever.” Link released him with a final pinch. “Don’t joke about that. I’m sensitive, too.” He rolled out of bed and shambled to the dresser for his pajamas.

“Listen, man,” he said as he changed into his pale blue pajamas. “I may not know how to kiss well, but I  _ do _ know how to work a penis.”

Rhett threw his head back into the pillows and laughed harder than Link had ever heard before. When he could breathe again, he wiped tears from his eyes, whispering, “Put that on a t-shirt.” 


	7. Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [the-average-bear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaveragebear) for your input on this chapter! This was originally the last one, but there's still a bit more to go. :)

    Rhett nudged open the front door with both arms weighed down with reusable shopping bags full of groceries. His thoughts were circling pleasantly around the stir fry recipe he planned to make for dinner. Maybe he’d be able to sneak in some bok choy without Link noticing. However, before he could call Link to help him put the groceries away, he was greeted by what sounded like moaning.

    He stopped, right there in the doorway, and listened. Perhaps he’d imagined things. It had been a lazy, rainy day. Link had been off work thanks to the weather. He and Rhett had spent most of the day napping and shuffling around the house, Rhett in his massive fuzzy slippers and Link in his tube socks. When Rhett had left to go grocery shopping, Link had been looking up hairdressing schools and muttering vaguely about wanting to take some classes.

    Then the moaning came again, along with someone yelling, “FUCK.”

    Rhett tiptoed to the dining room, bracing himself for the worst.

    Link was at the laptop, one knee drawn up to his chest as he watched a video of two muscular men, entwined in the throes of ecstasy. Rhett looked from Link to the screen and back again, his mouth open in shock. His boyfriend was furiously scribbling in a notebook, as if he was taking notes on a college lecture.

    “Oh hey, Rhett,” Link said without looking up. “You got back fast. Sorry, I’m almost done here.”

    He clicked on a new video. Two naked men with glistening muscles were sprawled on a couch, one of them stroking them both. Link made a “hmm” sound of understanding and continued his scribbling.

    Rhett sincerely wondered if he was experiencing a psychotic break.

    It wasn’t that he had anything against his boyfriend watching porn, he just figured that Link didn’t care for it. But here Link was, scrolling through PornHub with the focus of someone studying for a test.

    Rhett finally gathered his thoughts enough to whisper, “What the hell are you doing?”

    “Research, of course. I’ve had plenty of kissing practice, but absolutely no sex practice. I need to know what to do whenever I’m ready.” Link paused the video and turned his attention to Rhett. “Did you remember to get Mini-Wheats?”

    Rhett dropped his bags onto the table with a thud. “I thought you said you knew how to work a penis.”

    “Well, yeah, but it’s different when only one person is naked. Once we’re _both_ naked, it gets... it gets _real_. I need to learn the best stuff to do to you before I try.”

    Rhett had a sudden, vivid image of Link bent over him, pinning Rhett’s wrists to the bed as he wrecked them both with his hips. His mouth went dry. Conscious of Link’s eyes still on him, he busied himself with emptying the bags of groceries. Silence stretched between them until Link got up to help him, wrinkling his nose at the cluster of tomatoes he found in one bag.

    “The first time you were going to have sex with another guy, did you do any research?” he asked.

    “No!” Rhett burst out.

    “Not at all? You didn’t look up enemas or search for the best brand of lube?” Link seemed genuinely taken aback. “That seems counter-intuitive, man. It’s like going on a trip from your house to a new In-N-Out Burger without turning on your GPS. You think you kinda know the way, but you still need that little robot voice in your phone just to confirm that you’re going to the right place. Otherwise, you might end up in a neighborhood full of bicycle-riding, scythe-wielding tennis players.”

    Rhett blinked at him.

    “True story,” Link added.

    “I already had sex ed and watched porn, so my first time happened naturally.”

    “What was it like?”

    A memory surfaced suddenly, of sweat and heat and writhing on a thin mattress with another body beneath his, the bed creaking with each thrust. “Three words. College, roommate, wood-flavored lube.”

    “That’s more than three words.” Link’s face wrinkled in distaste. “And wood-flavored lube sounds nasty.”

    “Tasted pretty good, actually.” Rhett gave Link a nudge. “Not as good as beans, of course, but close.”

    “If you say so.” Link sounded unconvinced, his shoulders sagging as he pulled a jar of olives from one bag. He shook his head in a sudden burst of frustration. “ _Gosh_ , Rhett, I’m so far behind.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “While you were busy having wood-flavored lube orgies with your roommate, you know what I was doing? Working! And I was _happy_ about it. I spent so much time at work that I closed myself off from an entire world of other stuff.” He gestured at the laptop. “I’ve wasted so much time compared to everyone else.”

    Unsure of how to provide comfort, Rhett sidled closer to Link. He put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently. "Having sex isn’t a competition, you know,” he said gently.

    Link sighed. “I know.”

    “But,” Rhett added, “if it _was_ a competition, I know I’d win.”

    With a yelp, he shied away as Link poked him hard in the stomach.

    “You’re such a dork,” Link muttered, but his mouth was twitching with amusement.

    “Why can’t we just practice together?” Rhett asked. “You could do some, uh, _research_ that way.”

    The laugh he got in return was almost shy. “Do you really want to see me naked, though? It’s not the most exciting sight. You might need a distraction.”

    Rhett opened and shut his mouth a few times.

    “Trust me,” he said. “I won’t want to be distracted.”

    “Are you sure?” Link’s eyebrows crinkled upwards in disbelief. “I’m a lot hairier than you are. Both in the chest region and the...” He gestured towards his crotch. “But I’ve always kept things trimmed! For sanitary reasons.”

    Rhett made an audible noise as he tried to suppress the image of Link grooming his privates.

    “Listen, Link,” he said after a moment. “Just between the two of us, I’m extremely interested in seeing you naked. And why would I not be? We’re _boyfriends._ ” He tried to think of a way to put his feelings into words. He wanted to express how Link was a ray of weird sunshine that Rhett wanted to bask in whenever possible. Or how sometimes he woke up at night, his chest tightening at the thought of being alone, but one glance at Link softly snoring beside him made him feel better. But he’d never been one to express himself verbally.

    He caught up Link’s hand in his and kissed it.

    “Trust me,” he said gently.

    Link’s face had gone quite red. “Just give me some time,” he whispered.

    Rhett nodded. “When you’re ready, just let me know.”

    They stared into each other’s eyes for an extended moment. Rhett could have sworn that he heard romantic violin music rising in the background.

    The mood was shattered when Link grimaced, tugging his hand away from Rhett’s. He wiped his palm on his jeans with a grimace. “So sweaty.”

    “Sorry. It’s a sign of intelligence.”

    Link chuckled and turned his attention to the groceries, heading for the kitchen with his arms full of boxes of Mini-Wheats. Rhett made sure he was occupied before sneaking a glance at the notepad by his laptop.

    He almost choked on air.

    In slanted but neat letters, Link had written the following:

_Video 3: pounding @ gym_

_They were on a mat on the floor. Looked like their knees might hurt. NOTE: when you’re ready to have sex, do it somewhere comfortable with pillows. Like the bed._

_Blond guy is the top. Brown-haired guy is the bottom. They did it 3 different ways. [here Link had drawn some crude stick figures in equally crude positions] NOTE: ask Rhett if he prefers top or bottom. I don’t want to bottom. My anus is too tight._

* * *

 

    When Link was finally ready to Get Naked, it was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. And nothing worth worrying about, when he thought about it later.

    He and Rhett were watching a movie one Friday night, a few weeks after Rhett had come home to find him watching porn. He’d switched to more safe-for-work research since then. The idea of sleeping with Rhett no longer filled him with overwhelming anxiety, but he was still nervous.

    Throughout the movie, Link’s attention kept drifting to Rhett, who had forgone the manbun in favor of letting his hair hang loose. Link greatly appreciated the sight.. They were both on their respective sides of the two-person recliner, but Link was sprawled across the armrests with his aching feet in Rhett’s lap. It had been a long day of slow/stop sign holding, and Rhett had offered to give him a massage. He seemed captivated by the movie, however, so all Link got was the occasional caress. Link tried to imagine how it would feel to have those long fingers touching him everywhere, how Rhett’s soft beard would feel against his stomach, but it wasn’t enough. He needed the real thing, and thanks to a particular item of clothing he’d received that morning, he felt that he was ready.

    As the movie ended, Rhett caught his gaze.

    “You’ve been staring at me all night. Something wrong?” His eyes were large and soft.

    “Nothing,” Link mumbled. He glanced back at the slow scroll of credits on-screen. “You, um, want to go to bed?”

    “Already? It’s like nine o’clock.”

    “Not to sleep,” Link said quickly.

    It barely took three seconds for understanding to dawn on Rhett’s face. He was on his feet, pulling Link up behind him. Somehow, they made it to the bedroom and collapsed on top of the comforter that Link had so meticulously folded that morning. Rhett was all over him, hips moving slowly as he explored the inside of Link’s mouth with his tongue. They hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was only lit by the nightlight in the corner

    “You wanna see me,” Link murmured against Rhett’s lips. “You can go right ahead.”

    The feeling of someone else removing his clothes for him was strange, but Rhett was gentle. He took each piece of clothing and folded it before placing it on the nightstand by the bed. It was a small gesture, but it helped calm Link’s nerves immensely.

    “We really need to get you something to wear besides cotton blend polo shirts and second-hand khakis,” he murmured.

    Link grinned. “Don’t be like that, man. I like my polo shirts.”

    But when Rhett saw Link’s boxers, he actually whimpered.

    “That’s... that’s not cotton,” he said in a small voice.

    Link laughed out loud then, breathy and high-pitched. “Silk boxers, baby. Ordered them online a few days ago while you were at that all-staff meeting.” He smoothed a hand over the shimmering red fabric before softly adding, “One hundred percent for you.”

    “One hundred percent _silk_.” Rhett’s expression was almost reverent. “They’re gorgeous. And,” he added, his cheeks reddening, “so are you.”

    The compliment left Link feeling flustered but pleased. He tugged at Rhett’s paisley button-down. “That’s what you’re wearing, right? Silk?”

    “Charmeuse!” Rhett corrected him indignantly. “You should know these fabrics by now.”

    “Do you know what all of your clothes are made of?” he asked.

    “Of course.” Rhett grinned. He began unbuttoning his shirt. “Test me, man.”

    Link propped himself up on one elbow to help, but somehow ended up tangling Rhett’s legs in his hunter-green pants before Rhett lost patience and kicked them onto the floor.

    “Those were one hundred percent linen pants,” Rhett said, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “Very breathable and a great alternative to silk loungewear, but also easily wrinkled.”

    “What about these?” Link poked at Rhett’s black boxer briefs.

    “Ninety-five percent micromodal, five percent spandex.” Rhett lifted his hips as Link gently slid his underwear out of the way. “And that is one hundred percent man flesh, semi-erect.”

    Link winced, his face going red. “Rhett!”

    “Well, that’s what it is.” Rhett’s tongue poked out again. He was breathing heavily already. “Come here.”

    Link’s thoughts had never lingered on how it felt to be touched. He took care of himself in the shower when necessary, barely letting himself bask in the afterglow. But the way Rhett’s body pinned him down as his mouth explored the base of Link’s throat was enough to set every nerve tingling, made him squirm and plead for more.

    He felt a spike of anxiety when Rhett fished the lube and a condom from the nightstand drawer.

    “I don’t want to bottom,” he said hastily.

    “You won’t,” Rhett assured him gently as he tore open the condom. “Because I really want to.”

    Cool latex was followed by a healthy dose of lube. Link covered his mouth with a hand to stifle a hysterical laugh as Rhett stroked him a few times. This was actually _happening_ right _now_. He was so excited that he couldn’t stop wiggling his toes.

    “You okay?” Rhett asked.

    Link nodded jerkily. “I just can’t believe that I’m going to be inside you!” he whispered. “Like an alien butt probe.”

    Rhett succeeded in keeping his composure for two whole seconds before he joined Link in a fit of giggles. “Not the way I’d say it, but yes.”

    They lost all need for coherent sentences after that. Rhett straddled him, knees on either side of Link’s belly. He carefully sank back, his teeth showing as he pushed Link deep inside him. Link held as still as he could, his lip between his teeth, barely daring to breathe. With a muffled grunt, Rhett began to move.

    Link’s first thought was that he would never forget the way Rhett completely enveloped him as they moved together. He’d never forget how completely safe and perfectly _right_ he felt, the final pieces of their relationship sliding into place at last. There was no need to worry when Rhett’s arms were around him, his hair covering their faces as they exchanged sloppy kisses. Link clung to him, fingers digging into Rhett’s back, thrusting upwards to match the relentless pace set by his boyfriend.

    Link’s second thought was that sex was a lot sweatier than he’d expected. But he didn’t mind at all.

    “Touch me, Link,” Rhett whispered, his voice high and thin. It was more of a plea than a command, but Link couldn’t comply fast enough.

    When they neared the end, it was unlike anything Link had expected. He knew that Rhett was gorgeous while in the throes of ecstasy alone, but the feel of him riding Link hard, moaning softly when they fell over the edge together, was infinitely better. Link threw his head back, his cries drowning out Rhett’s. He came hard enough to light fireworks behind his eyelids.

    A sudden rush of emotion swept over him. He loved Rhett, he loved the warmth of their bodies entwined, he loved everything about the weird little life they’d created together. It took him a moment to realize that his face was wet.

    Rhett was nuzzling gently at his face, his beard soft against Link’s cheek.

    “Why are you crying?” he whispered.

    “Why not?” Link chuckled. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and noticed that Rhett was doing the same. “Why are _you_ crying?”

    “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

    Link reached up to brush Rhett’s hair back from his face. His heart felt so full that it almost hurt. “I love you so much, Rhett.”

    His boyfriend’s cheeks stood out with the shyest of smiles. “I love you, too.”

    Later, after they’d cleaned up and Rhett was dozing off, Link began feeling antsy. He nudged Rhett in the ribs.

    “You... um... you wanna do that again?”

    Rhett snorted, peering at Link from the depths of his pillow. “Already? Look man, I’m not in college anymore. You gotta give me at least forty-seven minutes to recover.”

    “Forty-seven minutes! I’m all recovered right _now._ ”

    “Well, let me take a nap and I’m all yours again, okay?”

    “Okay.”

    For a moment, Link was still. Then slowly, he nestled in closer to Rhett, right against his chest. Rhett hummed low in his throat and put an arm around him. Gradually, Link began to relax.

    Even now, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a job. There was no hurry, no need to rush to fill an imaginary quota. They could afford to take their time.

    As Link listened to Rhett's deep breathing, his eyelids began growing heavy. He drifted off to the steady thump of Rhett’s heartbeat and dreamed of blissful days ahead.

 


	8. Emotional support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [mythical-michelle](http://mythical-michelle.tumblr.com) for beta-reading this. <3

Rhett was at the park again, munching at the remains of his ice cream cone. Today’s flavor was summer sunset, a taste that made him feel warm and cozy. He strolled along, hands in the pockets of his sky-blue capris. Link would be off work in another few hours. They’d planned to get dinner and go bowling with some of Rhett’s friends from work, but for now he was enjoying some time to himself.

He was happy. There were good changes ahead for him and his boyfriend. He had just gotten a promotion at FARTS to super senior tester, meaning that he got to help plan new meals instead of just tasting them. Link was seriously looking to pursue a career as a hairdresser, researching schools and programs with the same intensity he’d used to research sex. Rhett was proud of him.

“Hey. Hey you.”

Rhett stopped. He was being beckoned over by a man wearing a long, filthy bathrobe who was sprawled across a park bench. The man looked as if he’d just taken a dust bath and hadn’t bothered cleaning up. His shaggy dark hair rested above a weather-beaten face. One eye was covered by a patch.

“Hello,” Rhett said warily.

“How ya doing.” The man’s voice was low in an almost suggestive way.

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for a moment. The man exuded a strange sort of energy that kept Rhett frozen in place.

“Do you need some change or something?” Rhett asked after a moment. “I don’t have any cash on me but I could get you an ice cream cone if you wanted—”

The man chuckled. “Just wanted to ask if you wanted to buy something.”

Rhett waved dismissively. “Um, no thanks, I’m not looking for drugs.”

“It ain’t drugs!” The man shook his head in disgust. “Just because I’m covered in dirt and sleeping on a park bench in a bathrobe I found in the dumpster, people think I’m a homeless drug addict. The nerve!” His eye focused on Rhett again. “I’m Peder by the way.”

“Peter?”

“No, Peder. With a D.” A tongue flicked out over dry lips. 

“I’m Rhett.”

“Nice to meet you.” Peder flashed a brief smile. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Rhett couldn’t quite place it. “So do you need any clothes? Specifically shorts?”

“No, thanks. I have everything I need.”

Peder surged up from the bench in one swift motion. Barefoot, he shuffled closer to Rhett.

“These are special shorts,” he said hopefully.

“I don’t need any.” Rhett took a step.

“You sure? I can get your inseam for ya.”

“No!” Rhett’s face wrinkled in disgust.

Peder’s eyes slid down to Rhett’s crotch. He let out a sound that could have been a groan or a growl. “I’m measuring it right now.”

“Stop it!” Rhett covered himself with both hands. He suddenly wished he’d stayed home.

“Hold still. I can get you fitted in two seconds and then you’ll be wearing the most comfortable shorts in the world.”

Rhett was intrigued in spite of himself. “Comfortable, you say?”

“That’s right.” The man cracked a smile. His teeth were surprisingly white. “Look at this.”

With a flourish and a puff of dust, Peder ripped open his bathrobe. Rhett shrank back with a yell, bracing himself for the sight of extremely unhygienic genitals.

Instead, Peder was wearing what looked like a pair of shorts caked with dirt.

He chuckled at Rhett’s confusion as he tossed his bathrobe aside. “These are my dirt shorts. Dorts. I could sell ‘em to you.” He tilted his head to one side. “Of course, I only have one pair—”

“No, thank you!” Rhett burst out. “I wear some of the most comfortable clothing in the world. You can’t tell me that dirt is better than silk!”

Peder shrugged. “Suit yourself then.” His one eye narrowed. “What about your hair?”

“What about it?!” Rhett could barely contain his annoyance now. He wasn’t one to be rude to strangers, but right now he wanted to go home.

“Well, a man who knows all about comfort must be getting his hair done by professionals twice a week, right?”

Rhett reached up to touch his manbun. “I do my own hair, actually.”

“Huh.” Peder sniffed. “Thought so.” He turned away to retrieve his bathrobe.

“But my boyfriend might be going to school to be a hairdresser!” Rhett added quickly. He sighed. “Why do you care so much about a stranger’s hair, anyway?”

“You have the hair of defeat. The hair of someone who’s too busy thinking about his clothes to worry about the rest of him.” Peder cinched his bathrobe closed with a yank. He had a very small waist. “The hair of someone who doesn’t appreciate what he has. Twenty years from now, your hair will start falling out and you’ll wish you tried new things with it before it was too late.”

Rhett had a sudden visual of himself as an old man, balding and regretting his hair choices. He didn’t like it.

“What should I do then?” he demanded.

“Well, I don’t know. it’s really none of my business.” Peder waved dismissively. “Just something I noticed. I don’t care about anything but maintaining my dorts, of course. Life is easier that way. I used to worry about stupid things like expense reports and car insurance and flossing regularly.” He shrugged. “Now, I just wear dorts and hang out in parks.”

“I see.” Rhett began backing down the path. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I need to go.”

“There is something that might help,” Peder added. His grimy fingers touched the patch over his eye. “Wanna get a look at my prophes-eye? It may show you a way out of having hair of defeat. And maybe we could dance, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Peder began shuffling towards him again. “So you wanna peek?”

“No, thanks. I’m going home.”

“Dammit!” Peder scuffed his bare foot against the ground. “Well, it was worth a try.”

* * *

 

On Saturday morning, they attended an open house at Anita Break School of Beauty, Link clutching a welcome packet in one hand and Rhett’s arm with the other.

“This is the top school in the city!” he told Rhett excitedly as they crossed the parking lot. “I’d love to go here and learn about fun hairstyles.”

“Which one do you want to learn the most?” Rhett asked.

“I dunno.” Link beamed up at him. “But I’m excited.”

In the school’s lobby, they were greeted by a white-haired man dressed head-to-toe in lurid green. His fingernails were painted the same color, with white tips.

“Well, hello there, boys,” he murmured, his voice somewhere between a hum and a drawl. “Are you here for the open house?”

“Yes! I’m Link. This is my boyfriend Rhett. He’s just here for moral support.

“And what tall, dashing support he is, mmhmm.” The man licked his lips. “I’m Reginold Mascamara, tour guide extraordinaire and hairdresser to internet stars. Come along, come along! I’ll show you all that we have to offer.”

They followed Reginold down hallways and through bustling classrooms where adult students were busy applying makeup to people’s faces or trimming hair under their teachers’ watchful eyes.

“We teach a full slate of courses here, and offer discounted services to the general public.” Reginold said. “Everything from hairdresser to esthetician.”

“What’s an aesthetic?” Link asked.

“No, no. Esthetician. Someone trained in skincare.”

“An asceticism, yeah.”

“Esthetician,” Rhett corrected. He turned back to Reginold. “I understand.”

“I’m glad someone does.” Reginold pointed to a room with large glass windows. Inside, several students were giving baths to a variety of small dogs. “We offer complimentary pet baths to all our clients.

Link gasped. “Look at them, Rhett!” He went closer to the window. “Only dogs?”

“Only animals.” Reginold wrinkled his nose. “We had one man bring in three pet rocks that he wanted us to wash and polish, and he was very upset that we couldn’t help him.”

He walked ahead and waved at another room, where several people were clipping carefully at mannequin heads topped with long manes of hair. “Here we have some first-year students working on artificial hair pieces.”

Link trotted to keep up with them. “Wigs?”

“Not wigs.” Reginold let out a scathing laugh. “Wigs are for sad people.”

They passed through several more rooms. Rhett liked what he saw, and he could tell by the happiness on Link’s face that he did, too. 

When they returned to the lobby, Reginold clasped both hands behind his back and grinned at them both.

“Well boys, I’ll leave you to look around for a bit. I hope to have you here as a student one day, Link. Your pronunciation is questionable but you seem quite lovely.” His eyes flicked to Rhett. “As is your boyfriend.”

Rhett smiled faintly. “Thanks...”

It may have been his imagination, but he thought Reginold winked at him.

“Application deadline is in one month and classes start in the fall.” Reginold shook their hands in both of his. “It’s been a pleasure.” And with a flourish, he swept away.

“So how do you feel about this?” Rhett asked.

Link was bouncing on his toes.“I love it. This seems like it would be so much fun, Rhett. To finally become a hairdresser.” He reached up to brush a few flyaways from Rhett’s forehead. “I could do your hair.” His eyes widened as another thought occurred to him. “I could do  _ my _ hair.”

* * *

 

Link’s excitement carried them both through the rest of the day, right up to when Rhett climbed into bed and discovered that his boyfriend was only wearing briefs.

“This is nearly nude night,” Link explained to him.

“What?” Rhett wrinkled his nose. “I thought tonight was not-nude night?”

“No, not-nude night is never on nights divisible by nine.”

“Never mind.” Rhett pulled the covers up to his chin. Link was gradually overcoming his anxiety regarding sex, but he insisted on following a schedule regarding times he’d let Rhett see him naked otherwise. Rhett didn’t mind; he was happy if Link was happy.

Once the light was off, Link snuggled close to him.

“I submitted my application this afternoon,” he said. “Kinda nervous.”

“I’m proud of you for taking the risk.” Rhett kissed the top of his head. “Really proud.”

“Will you let me do your hair?” Link asked.

Rhett grinned. “Maybe. Learn how to make a manbun first and then we’ll talk.”

* * *

 

Link was accepted to the school a few weeks later. He was overjoyed at first before his habitual worrying set in. He hadn’t been in class in years; what if he couldn’t keep up? What if he flunked out and had to be a slow/stop man for the rest of his life.  He still had some residual anxiety that he was doing something wrong, a sense that everything might fall apart in a moment.

Rhett was always there, of course. He helped Link register for classes and even convinced him to buy some clothes that weren’t khakis or polo shirts. He seemed almost telepathic in his ability to understand what Link needed.

The night before the first day of classes, the two of them were sitting on the new back deck, basking in the peace of sunset and twilight. There was a plate of chicken nuggets arranged into the shape of the United States between them, as well as a variety of dipping sauces in tiny ceramic dishes that Rhett had insisted they use for the occasion.

“I think I can do a manbun now,” Link said. “Watched a lot of online tutorials. I don’t want to go into class tomorrow knowing absolutely nothing, y’know?”

“Nice.” Rhett wiped his fingers on a napkin before reaching back to release his hair from its tie. “Can you show me?”

Link sprang up and came to stand behind Rhett’s chair. He combed his fingers through the shoulder-length locks. Something about the feel of light fingernails in Rhett’s scalp made him shiver with pleasure.

“Have I ever told you that your hair is real pretty?” Link asked.

“Of course it is.” Rhett’s tone made Link roll his eyes. “I wash it in yak’s milk twice a week.”

“No, you don’t. You use that twig and berries shampoo and conditioner, just like I do.” Link gave his head a pat. “There. Done.”

Rhett laughed. “That was fast.” He took out his phone, examining his hair with the front-facing camera. “Well, it’s a bit lopsided, but not bad for an amateur attempt.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Link tried not to roll his eyes again as he sat back down. He turned his attention to the plate of chicken nuggets.

“What are these things called again? State nuggets?”

“State nuckies.” Rhett picked a square-shaped one from the plate and dipped it into the ketchup. “We’re designing them for school lunches. Educational and delicious.”

“Hmm.” Link picked one of his own. “Tastes like Ohio.”

“Really?” Rhett sighed. He opened his phone’s audio recording app. “Note for taste designers: add more spice. Right now the nuckies taste boring.”

“What’s wrong with boring?” Link demanded. “ _ I’m _ boring.”

Rhett threw back his head and laughed. Something about Link’s indignance struck Rhett as hilarious.

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

“You’re a special kind of boring,” Rhett said when he could speak again. “The type of boring that isn’t boring at all.”

Link’s face went red.

His face went even redder later that night, while Rhett’s mouth and hands ravaged him in the best way possible.

Afterwards, however, he couldn’t fall asleep. He lay awake, his heart still racing as he thought about the first day of school tomorrow. He was fully prepared, but his mind refused to calm down.

Beside him, Rhett was already dozing off, his face slack and peaceful. Link kissed him lightly, once on the lips, once on the tip of his nose, and once between his eyebrows. Rhett hummed something sleepily in response.

In the morning, Link got dressed in the outfit he’d chosen from the clothes Rhett had insisted on buying for him. A pair of black jeans, an orange t-shirt that read “GEORGE’S ICE CREAM TRUCK,” and a new pair of sneakers. He emerged from the bathroom to find Rhett waiting, arms crossed.

“How do I look?” Link asked nervously. He turned one way, then the other. “Too casual? I didn’t want to dress up too much since we’re supposed to be washing a lot of wigs. Sorry, I mean artificial hair pieces. Do you think it would be better if—”

Rhett kissed him.

The gesture was small, but with it came a sense of clarity. Link didn’t need to worry. No matter what happened, he and Rhett still had each other, and that was all that mattered. If Link didn’t become a hairdresser, so what? He could always try something else. It was a small realization, but it helped ease the tension in his chest.

“You look pretty good for a man who hates tomatoes,” Rhett told him. He ran his hands over Link’s shoulders, pausing to squeeze gently. “I mean it.”

Link found himself blushing again. “Thanks.”

“And you’ll be fine.”

“You think so?”

“Well.” There was a smirk in Rhett’s voice. “As fine as a man who recorded over my Kenneth Kenneth tapes could be.”

Link swatted him in the chest. “Oh, shut up.” He went to the bedroom to grab his backpack and headed for the door, Rhett following closely behind.

“No breakfast?”

“Nah. My stomach’s not too happy with me right now.” Link paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I can’t believe I’m finally doing this. After all this time, I’m going back to school. And for something that I really want to do!”

“You deserve it, man.” Rhett gave him a nudge.

“Well, you were the one who pushed me to try new things.”

“And  _ you _ were the one who took the initiative to apply for schools,” Rhett reminded him. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Link’s face lit up at that. “Thanks, man. I—”

His phone beeped. Link hurried to retrieve it from his pocket.

“I need to go,” he said with a laugh. He scrambled out the doorway, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight! I love you, Rhett!”

Link always said those words so sincerely, which never failed to make Rhett feel flustered and pleased. He watched his boyfriend hurry down the sidewalk.

“I love you, too, Link.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this silly little fic! Writing something different from my usual angsty stuff has been an interesting experience.


End file.
